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DATE 

DUE 

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univ.  of  massachusetts/amherst 
lbrary; 


F 
Q5S6 


CARD 


TAGHCONIC 


THE  ROMANCE  AND  BEAUTY 


OE  THE  HILLS. 


BY  GODFREY  GREYLOCK  ^'±dL 


"  Thou  Shalt  look 
Upon  the  green  and  rolling  forest  tops, 
And  down  into  the  Focrets  of  the  glens 
And  streams,  that  with  their  bordering  thickets  strive 
To  hide  xheir  windnigs.    Thou  shalt  gaze  at  once 
Here  on  white  villages  and  tilth  and  herds, 
And  swarming  roads,  and  there  on  solitudes 
That  only  hear  the  torrent  and  the  wind, 
And  Eagle's  shriek." 

Bryant. 


BOSTON  : 
LEE  AND  SHEPAKD,  PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK  :  PITTSFIELD: 

Charles  T.  Dillingham.  S    E.  Nichols 

1879. 


UBRARV 

UNiVERSiry  OF 
MASSACHUSEnS 

amherstTmass. 


TREASURE  R06M 

COPYRIGHT 

BY 

J.    E.   A.   SMITH, 

1879. 


ALBANY,  N.  Y.: 

J,   MUNSELL,   PllINTER, 

82  State  Street. 


o<; 


EPISTLE  DEDICATORY. 

^ti  Rummer  lanidbUr^  m  iU  "gzxW^xxt  %m. 


Friends  :  — 

From  Vermont  upon  the  north  to  Connecticut 
upon  the  south,  for  fifty  miles  along  the  eastern 
border  of  New  York,  extends  Berkshire,  the  most 
western  county  of  Massachusetts.  It  is  a  region  of 
hill  and  valley,  of  lake  and  stream,  of  woodland, 
farm  and  field.  Its  beauty  is  world  renowned;  for 
the  pens  of  Cullen  Bryant  and  Catherine  Sedgwick 
early  made  it  their  favorite  themes,  and  in  later  years 
Holmes  and  Longfellow,  Hawthorne,  Melville  and 
Thoreau  have  invested  it  with  the  halo  of  their 
genius.  Within  its  limits  lie  Monument  Mountain, 
Icy  Glen,  the  Stockbridge  Bowl,  Green  River,  Octo- 
ber Mountain  and  a  thousand  other  scenes  of  storied 
or  of  unsung  loveliness. 

Bounding  the  valley  on  the  north,  from  innumera- 
ble  points  of  view,  the  double  peaks  of  Greylock 
rise  majestically  three  thousand  five  hundred  feet 
into  the  air,  the  mountain  summit  of  the  Common- 
wealth. Along  its  western  bordm-s,  in  curves  of 
marvelous  grace,  lie  the  dome-like  hills  of  the  Tagh~ 


2  EPISTLE    DEDICATORY. 

conic  range.  Less  graceful  in  outline,  but  even 
more  romantic  with  broken  and  precipitous  ascents, 
wild  glens  and  tumbling  brooks,  the  Hoosacs  shut  out 
the  world  upon  the  east.  Within  this  mountain- 
walled  amphitheatre  lies  cradled  the  upland  valley 
of  the  Housatonic,  with  all  its  fertile  farms,  its  man- 
sion homes,  and  frequent  villages.  Somebody  has 
called  it  the  Piedmont  of  America.  I  do  not  know 
how  just  the  appellation  may  be,  but  I  do  know  that 
if  Piedmont  can  rightly  be  called  the  Berkshire  of 
Euroi)e,  it  must  be  a  very  delightful  region. 

What  we  most  admire  in  Berkshire  scenery  is  its 
freshness,  boldness,  and  variety.  Our  hills  boast  no 
astounding  grandeur;  there  is  nothing  about  them  of 
an  Alpine  character;  they  possess  few  scenes  which 
can  properly  rank  with  the  sublime.  The  highest 
mountain  tops,  the  most  precipitous  cliffs  —  sutHcient 
to  claim  our  admiration,  wild  enough  to  be  the  mar- 
vel of  tourists  from  the  tame  coast  country  —  cannot, 
for  a  moment,  compare  with  similar  scenes  among 
the  White  Mountains,  or  the  Alleghanies  —  not  to 
mention  more  unapproachable  wonders  of  Nature. 
Our  deepest  ravines,  often  penetrated  by  smooth, 
flower-bordered  roads,  are  very  different  things 
indeed,  from  the  earthquake-rifted  chasms  of  other 
lands. 

If  the  traveller  seek  some  object  for  a  day's  or  a 
week's  wonder,  some  tremendous  cataract  or  "  Heaven 
piercing  Cordillera,"  he  must  seek  it  elsewhere.  But 
if  he  asks  for  a  retreat  among  wild  and  picturesque 
Bcenery,  adorned  by  much  that  is  pleasant  and  re- 


EPISTLE     DEDICATORY.  3 

fined  in  his  city  life,  but  far  removed  from  its  heat 
and  turmoil;  where  he  can  draw  closer  the  silken 
cord  of  social  intercourse,  and  yet  throw  loose  some 
of  its  galling  chains;  where  nature  ennobles  by  her 
greatness  but  never  chills  with  a  frown,  he  may  find 
it  all  amid  the  varied  beauty  of  the  Berkshire  Hills. 
The  inexhaustible  variety  of  our  vistas  is  wonder- 
ful. It  is  marvellous  in  what  an  endless  series  of 
combinations,  mountain,  valley,  lake,  stream,  rock, 
field  and  wood,  present  themselves.  Wherever  you 
go,  you  meet  a  constant  succession  of  changes  which 
at  once  charm  the  eye  and  delight  the  heart.  At 
every  turn 

"You  stand  suddenly  astonished, 
You  are  gladdened  unaware." 

Through  the  long  summer  months  you  may  daily 
seek,  and  not  in  vain,  some  new  object  of  beauty  or 
of  romantic  interest.  But  it  may  chance  that  you 
will  not.  It  often  happens  that  a  few  spots  become 
so  dear  that  one  revisits  them  again  and  again,  leav- 
ing others  of  equal  or  surpassing  charms  for  tliose  to 
whom  they  have  become  like  a  familiar  friend. 

So  profusely  indeed  ha^  nature  scattered  her 
wealth  of  beauty  in  this  fair  county  that,  to  many, 
it  seems  a  useless  labor  to  search  out  her  more  choice 
and  hidden  gems;  and  they  remain  concealed  from 
those  who  pass  their  lives  within  a  rifle-shot  of 
them. 

The  traditions,  too,  which  used  to  attach  to  most 
of  these  scenes  are  rapidly  fading  with  the  fading 
years  of  grey-haired  men.     "  Yes,  there  was  a  story  " 


4  EPISTLE     DEDICATORY. 

I  have  been  often  told,  "  Old  Deacon  Whitehead  or 
old  Captain  Grey  used  to  tell  it;  but  they  are  dead 
and  my  memory  of  it  is  dim."     ******* 

And  now  to  you,  whom  I  have  presumed  to  call 
my  friends,  and  for  whom  these  brief  pages  were 
more  particularly  designed,  I  commend  for  your 
kindness  what  is  done.  Every  word  was  written  in 
sympathy  with  your  admiration  of  these  glorious 
hills;  a  sympathy  which  seemed  to  ripen  into  per- 
sonal friendship  with  yourselves.  If  I  shall  point 
any  of  you  to  scenes  of  Nature's  gladness,  to  which 
you  would  otherwise  have  been  strangers ;  if  I  shall 
contribute  one  moment  of  happiness  to  your  summer 
hours;  if  I  shall  hereafter  recall  more  vividly  to  your 
mind  tliese  rural  scenes,  when  they  shall  be  a  little 
faded,  I  shall  be  amply  repaid;  how  much  more,  if  I 
shall  add  one  pleasant  thought  to  mingle  with  your 
own,  as  you  gaze  upon  the  grand,  the  noble,  or  the 
beautiful,  in  our  dear  mountain  valley. 

Old  Feiends  :  — 

Many  years  ago,  in  words  like  the  above  I  ad- 
dressed to  you  a  little  volume,  which,  somewhat 
changed  in  form,  but  •  not  one  whit  in  sentiment,  I 
now  offer  to  you  again.  If  the  words  I  then  wrote 
were  warm  with  the  glow  of  first  love,  they  seem 
tame  to  express  the  affection  which,  in  the  inter- 
course of  years,  has  been  inspired  by  each  fair  scene, 
each  now  familiar  mountain  peak;  so  many  of  them 
now  inseparably  associated  with  pleasant  or  tender 
memories. 

Do  vou  remember  —  it  was  but  yesterday  —  stand- 


EPISTLE     DEDICATORY.  6 

ing  on  the  beetling  cliff's  of  Monument  Mountain; 
clambering  through  the  rock-cumbered  recesses  of  the 
Icy  Glen;  lingering  in  pleasant  Mahaiwe,  blest  of 
nature  and  of  art;  watching  the  moon  and  the  sun- 
rise on  the  shaggy  shoulders  of  Greylock;  wading 
and  stumbling  through  the  rushing  brook  up  the 
marble  ravine  that  leads  to  the  Natural  Bridge; 
dazed  by  the  superb  over-view  from  Perry's  Peak; 
climbing  the  cliff  wood  recesses  of  South  Mountain; 
letting  the  long  summer  days  melt  deliciously  away, 
with  discourse  of  books  and  nature,  on  the  leafy  sum- 
mits of  Osceola  and  Yocun's  Seat;  in  storm  on 
Otaneaque,  in  sunshine  on  Constitution  Hill;  floating 
half  sadly  on  Lake  Onota  or  the  Stockbridge  Bowl; 
in  merry  masquerade  on  Pontoosuc  or  the  Lily  Bowl; 
Hstening  to  the  lonely  dash  of  Wahcoiiaii's  Falls,  or 
the  mirth-mingled  murmurs  of  Lulu  Cascade ;  watch- 
ing the  summer-flash  of  life  and  fashion  into  the 
romantic  solitude  of  Lebanon;  puzzling  over  the 
potent  charms  of  Lenox,  loved  of  the  literati; 
rapt  in  the  noble  memories  of  old  Stockbridge  on  the 
Plain,  and  the  no  less  noble  memories  of  Poontoosuc, 
home  of  patriots;  lingering  in  many  a  nameless  nook 
or  shaded  woodroad,  to  be,  perhaps,  thenceforward 
dearer  than  all  ?  You  cannot  have-  forgotten  all 
this,  for  you  know  it  was  but  a  little,  a  very  little 
while  ago  when  it  all  happened. 

And  of  tale  and  tradition;  how  have  they  on 
every  hand  answered  to  our  seeking,  and  clothed 
every  scene  anew,  Avith  old  life.  To  be  sure,  I  have 
not  deemed  it  necessary  to  severely  criticise  every 


6  EPISTLE    DEDICATORY. 

tradition  that  has  been  preserved.  Enough  that  it 
accorded  with  the  spirit  and  the  customs  of  the  day 
of  which  it  was  related,  and  did  not  knock  its  brains 
out  against  some  hard  and  ugly  fact.  Nay,  I  will 
even  make  a  more  startling  confession.  When  in 
some  dry  old  documentary  history,  or  original  docu- 
ment yellowed  by  age,  I  have  found  a  glimpse  of 
real  life  and  real  story,  I  have  not  been  ashamed  to 
call  in  the  spirit  of  any  old  fellow,  whom  I  supposed 
cognizant  of  the  facts,  to  help  me  fill  out  the  chroni- 
cle. Living  for  years  half  buried  in  accounts  of 
these  departed  heroes  and  among  the  papers  which 
they  Wrote  —  all  the  while  striving  with  all  my  might 
to  do  justice  to  their  memories  —  I  should  have 
thought  it  hard  indeed  if  they  could  not  now  and  then 
tell  me  a  little  story  at  midnight,  when  other  spirits, 
bestow  their  time  so  freely  upon  those  who  have  no 
claim  at  all  upon  them.  My  old  heroes  were  not  so 
ungrateful.  It  does  not  seem  best,  however,  to  quote 
these   spiritual  authorities   in   foot   notes,    as   e.  g. 

interview  with  Capt.  Konkapot  and  Wampenuin. 
'^  Spirits  of  Captains  Aupaumut  and  Solomon. 
^Tliiis   Coochecomeek,   but    Mahtookamin  seems   to  think 
otherwise ;  however,  M.  did  not  seem  perfectly  en  rapport. 

I  am  afraid  this  sort  of  thing  would  not  do  at  all 
for  the  Methuselah  Society  for  the  Perversion  of 
History.  Nevertheless  the  testimony  of  eye-wit- 
nesses of,  or  actors  in,  scenes  which  took  place, 
over  two  hundred  years  ago,  is  very  satisfactory  to 
right-minded  people;  and  if  they  are  willing  to  leave 
their  happy  hunting  grounds  or  other  places  of  com- 


EPISTLE   DEDICATORY.  7 

fortable  spiritual  abode  and  pleasure,  to  tell  old  tales 
of  their  old  home,  I  for  one  am  grateful.  If  you 
think  otherwise,  we  will  not  quarrel  about  it:  you 
shall  have  the  stories  all  the  same,  just  as  the  dusky 
shades  of  the  heroes  already  quoted,  and  also  Unka- 
met,  Honasada,  Wanaubaugus  and  the  gentle  Wah- 
conah,  told  them  to  me. 

But,  from  whatever  sources  I  may  di*aw  the  inci- 
dents and  legends  associated  with  the  scenery  of 
Berkshire,  I  shall  endeavor  that  none  are  inconsis- 
tent with  the  most  accurate  history;  that  nothing 
shall  be  told,  but  which  at  least  "  might  have  been." 
And  I  trust  that  none  of  my  readers  will  be  so 
dull  as  not  to  be  able  to  detect  what  is  literally 
true  and  what  partakes  of  the  infirmities  of  tradi- 
tion. In  the  description  of  scenery  my  aim  will  be 
in  all  cases,  without  affecting  any  Pre-Raphaelite 
precision,  to  paint  a  faithful  likeness.  If  I  err  it 
will  not  be  in  the  intention. 

I  said  that  I  address  these  little  sketches  to  those 
to  whom  they  were  first  dedicated;  but,  with  the 
words,  comes  the  thought  that,  of  those  favoring  eyes 
to  which  I  should  have  looked  for  the  kindliest  judg- 
ment, many  have  closed  forever  on  the  scenes  of 
earth;  that  there  are  some  spots,  once  the  most 
joyous,  which  if  we  visit  them  for  the  purposes  of 
mirth,    seem    strangely    changed: 

"  Happy  places  have  grown  holy  ; 

If  we  went  where  once  we  ^went, 
Only  tears  would  fall  down  slowly, 

As  at  solemn  sacrament." 


8  EPISTLE   DEDICATOET. 

And  yet  we  know  that  those  whom  we  miss 
would  have  grieved  sorely  had  they  believed  that 
their  departure  would  leave  ^  shadow,  their  memory 
could  not  brighten,  upon  the  scenes  that  we  enjoyed 
together.  For  us  who  remain,  it  would  have  been 
their  wish  that  that  memory  should  shed  upon  each 
spot  with  which  it  is  associated,  a  purer  and  holier, 
but  not  less  gladsome,  light.  To  the  living  who 
have  lingered  with  me  in  loving  admiration  among 
the  hills  of  our  dear  old  Berkshire,  and  to  the  memo- 
ries of  our  dead,  I  then  dedicate  these  pages. 

We  are  most  of  us,  still  far  from  having  lived  out 
the  life  which  it  is  appointed  for  man  to  live;  still 
farther  perhaps  from  having  thoroughly  earned  the 
grave  which  we  would  not  willingly  owe  to  the  charity 
of  a  soil  to  which  we  have  given  less  than  we  have 
received  from  it.  And  upon  him  whose  duty  it 
is  to  live  and  strive,  rests  equally  the  obligation  to 
enjoy;  for  he  who  works  sadly,  works  at  ill  advantage; 
nor  without  enjoyment  can  there  be  any  genuine  and 
heartfelt  gratitude  for  the  gifts  of  the  Creator  —  of 
which  none  speak  more  directly  of  Him  than  these 
grand  mountains,  these  noble  hills,  these  fair  and 
fruitful  valleys;  among  which  let  us  hope  that  our 
rambles  are  not  yet  ended. 

Godfrey  Greylock, 
PiTTSFiELD,  June  1st,  1879. 


TAGHCONIG. 

I. 

OUR  TOWN. 

**  Mine,  and  mine  I  loved,  and  mine  I  prized. 
And  mine  iliat  I  was  proud  on  :  mine  so  much 
That  I  was  to  myself  not  mine." 


To  be  sure,  the  first  claim  which  our  town  has 
to  notice  is  that  it  is  ours.  The  propria  affords 
a  paramount  and  never-to-be-disputed  title  to  our 
affections.  That,  all  clear-sighted  persons  admit* 
The  very  idea  of  property  is  genial  to  our  hearts, 
even  if  it  be  only  in  the  travelled  streets  of  a  town, 
with  so  much  of  Heaven's  universal  gifts  as  one  can 
there  possess,  use  and  enjoy,  in  common  with  some 
thousands  of  copartners.  Says  Thoreau,  with  philoso- 
phic acumen  —  and  Southey  has  the  same  idea,  some- 
what enlarged,  in  "  The  Doctor  "  —  "I  think  nothing 
is  to  be  hoped  from  you,  if  this  bit  of  mold  under 
your  feet  is  not  sweeter  for  you  to  eat  than  any 
other  11  this  world  —  or  any  other  world."  "  Mine  '* 
and  more  intensely  "  mine  own,"  are  terms  of  super- 
lative endearment  in  the  patois  of  the  novel  writers. 


10  ^  TAGHCONIC. 

So  inherent  indeed  in  the  human  heart,  is  this  cor- 
respondence between  ownership  and  affection,  that 
no  sooner  do  we  conceive  a  liking  for  our  neighbor's 
house,  horse,  or,  anything  that  is  his,  than  an  uneasy, 
feverish  desire  to  transfer  the  possession  betrays  that 
our  hearts  are  out  of  unison  with  the  harmony  of 
nature. 

Nowhere  is  this  natural  law  of  relationship  more 
religiously  honored  than  in  the  love  which  the  good 
people  of  Pittsfield  bear  to  their  beautiful  town. 
But,  waiving  this  claim,  which  is  in  its  terms  not 
binding  upon  a  stranger,  our  town  has  a  title  to 
affectionate  admiration,  Avhich  not  the  most  crabbed 
traveller  ever  yet  desired  to  impeach. 

It  is  indeed  a  fair  town;  and,  standing  in  the  cen- 
ter of  that  magnificent  panorama  of  hills  which  en- 
compasses the  county  of  Berkshire,  it  is  embosomed 
in  beauty  —  in  beauty,  whose  excess  and  overwhelm- 
ing profusion,  in  some  of  its  broader  and  more  compre- 
hensive presentations,  often  raise  it  to  the  level  of  the 
sublime.  Branching  from  its  central  elm-shaded 
green,  delightful  avenues  invite  into  the  most  pictur- 
esque regions.  Through  long  vistas  of  elms,  lindens 
and  maples,  you  look  longingly  away  to  tree-flecked 
and  grove-checkered  hillsides,  dappled  also,  it  may  be, 
with  passing  cloud-shadows;  to  wooded  mountain 
tops,  the  nearer  brightly  green,  the  more  distant  some- 
times dimly,  sometimes  darkly,  blue,  as  the  fickle 
powers  of  the  air  may  ordain.  Over  valleys  lying 
in  goldenest  sunshine,  you  look  away  to  glens  deepen- 
ing into  mysterious  gloom,  and  —  yet  beyond  —  to 


OUR  TOWN.  11 

pastures,  stretched  at  intervals  along  the  topmost 
heights,  upon  whose  bright  verdure  the  sunlight 
lingers  longest.  Enchanted  land,  you  will  think 
those  Hoosac  pastures,  when,  after  a  summer  shower, 
the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  suddenly  burst  upon 
them,  while  they  are  overhung  by  such  a  rainbow  as 
is  possible  only  among  the  mountains;  its  glorious 
arch,  gemlike  in  the  living  depths  of  its  color,  resting 
upon  pillars  of  -shadowy  splendor  which  find  their 
bases  among  the  foundations  of  the  everlasting  hills. 
Regions  these,  one  would  say,  in  which  much  of 
man's  and  much  of  nature's  story  must  lie  hid. 
Very  enticing  regions  they  are  in  truth;  the  whole 
broad  landscape  one  grand  volume  of  song  and 
legend,  bound  in  the  most  gorgeous  green  and  gold. 
But,  before  we  permit  it  to  lure  us  away,  I  have  a 
story  or  two  to  tell,  which  must  be  told  right  here, 
under  this  little  cluster  of  elms;  and  nowhere  else. 


u. 

STORIES  OF  A  TREE,  AND  OF  ITS  PRE- 
SERVERS. 

"  Wise  with  the  lore  of  centuries. 
What  tales,  if  there  were  tongues  in  trees. 
That  giant  Elm  could  tell  1 " 


You  must  have  heard  of  the  old  Ehn  of  Pitts- 
field  Park.  It  has  its  place  of  fame  among  The  Trees 
of  America;  and  has  had  this  many  a  year.  It  is 
not  long  since  it  rose  here,  among  the  young  green 
growth,  the  scarred  and  seared  veteran  of  centuries. 
Straight  into  the  air  it  sprang,  one  hundred  and 
twenty-six  feet;  a  tall  grey  pillar,  bearing  for  sole 
capital  a  few  green  branches,  and  a  few  withered, 
shattered  and  bare  limbs.  From  Greylock  to  Monu- 
ment Mountain  there  was  no  inanimate  thing  so 
revered  and  venerable.  Nor  had  it  grown  thus  with- 
out a  story,  and  one  with  which  the  stories  of  other, 
and  human,  lives  were  closely  entwined. 

When  it  stood,  a  graceful  sapling,  in  the  forest, 
wherein  as  yet  no  white  man  had  his  habitation,  the 
spot  which  is  now  our  peaceful  green,  with  a  little 
neighboring  territory,  was  an  upland  wood  sur-- 
'•ounded,  except  for  a  narrow  space  upon  the  north, 


STORIES    OF    A    TREE.  13 

by  impenetrable  swamps:  a  most  defensible  camping 
ground;  such  as  the  red  engineers  knew  well  how  to 
select. 

And  here  the  St.  Francois  war  parties,  returning 
from  their  merciless  raids  into  the  valley  of  the 
Connecticut,  were  wont  to  bivouac,  binding  their 
way-worn  and  woe-worn  captives  to  the  lithe  but 
firm-set  young  trees.  Many  a  sorrowful  sight  must 
have  been  witnessed  by  that  lone  oasis  among  the 
hemlock  thickets,  but  one  tradition  only  speaks  of 
individual  suffering  and  adventure. 

Peril  the  First. 

Once  —  as  this  half  forgotten  old  story  goes  — 
there  came,  among  a  group  of  captives,  the  daugh- 
ter of  one  of  those  God-fearing  pastors  who,  rather 
than  bow  the  knee  to  Baal  and  Archbishop  Laud, 
forsook  their  quiet  and  comfortable  livings  in  Old 
England  to  become  the  living  springs  of  the  New 
England  churches.  Fair  with  the  light  of  "  Sunny 
Devon  by  the  sea,"  and  graced  by  culture  imbreathed 
with  the  odor  of  honeysuckles  and  roses  in  the  old 
moss-covered  rectory,  Isabel  Walton  carried  sun- 
shine, melody  and  joy  into  the  bare  log  cabin  pre- 
pared by  the  puritanic  settlers  for  her  widowed 
father,  in  their  narrow  forest  clearing. 

But,  one  murderous  night,  torn  from  the  dead 
body  of  that  father,  and  spared  by  the  caprice  oi 
avarice  of  the  savages,  she  was  brought  thus  far  on 
her  way  to  Canada.  Here,  broken  with  grief  and 
fatigue,   she  was   doomed  to  death,  as  an    encum- 


14  TAGHOONIC. 

brance  to  their  march,  and  to  death  by  fire.  She 
was  ah-eady  bound  to  the  sapling  Elm,  and  the 
faggots  piled  about  her  feet,  when,  happily,  the  party 
was  joined  by  a  small  detachment  of  French  sol- 
diers under  the  command  of  a  young  lieutenant. 
Touched  by  the  maidenly  modesty,  as  well  as  by 
the  brave  and  almost  saintly  bearing,  of  the  victim, 
this  officer  interposed  so  vehemently  that,  partly  by 
threats  and  partly  by  pledges  of  ransom,  she  was 
rescued;  and  with  her  the  young  Elm  escaped  its 
first  peril  at  the  hand  of  man.  Supported  with  ten- 
der care  and  reverent  regard  by  her  manly  preserver, 
Isabel  reached  Montreal  in  safety.  And  the  garru- 
lous old  tradition,  after  the  absurd  manner  of  such 
ancient  chronicles,  thinks  it  necessary  to  add  that 
weak,  captive,  and  bereaved,  as  she  was,  she  did  not 
find  the  long  march  altogether  without  its  consola- 
tions, or  indeed  at  all  tedious.  I  preserve  this  ad- 
dendum solely  for  the  benefit  of  elderly  philosophers 
in  search  of  psychological  data.  I  am  quite  sure,  at 
least,  it  will  not  be  needed  by  any  of  my  fair  readers 
who  ever  passed  an  October  day  in  Berkshire  woods, 
rustling  through  the  crisp  carpet  of  many  colored 
leaves,  tumbling  over  criss-crossed  and  tangled  roots, 
lunching  sociably  in  sunny  glades,  climbing  paths 
so  arduous  that  the  liberal  support  of  strong  arms 
was  not  to  be  dispensed  with;  and  withal  perform- 
ing feats  which  would  have  made  their  teacher  of 
calisthenics  open  her  pretty  eyes  very  wide. 

And   now  I  must  tell  you  of  one  thing   which  I 
fear  some  of  you  will  not  so  well  like.     But,  ah  me  ! 


STORIES    OF    A    TREE.  15 

in  any  veracious  narrative  unpleasant  facts  will  out. 
Naturally  there  came  a  time  in  their  wooing  when 
Pierre  and  Isabel  spoke  together  of  their  difference 
in  religious  faith.  This  was  certainly  after  their 
betrothal,  but  I  think  the  weight  of  evidence  indi- 
cates that  it  was  before  their  marriage;  which  the 
records  of  the  cathedral  church  fix  with  great  pre- 
cision at  just  one  year  after  their  arrival  at  Montreal. 
The  anniversary  is  a  holiday  with  their  descendants 
even  yet.  But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  pre- 
cise time  when  the  lovers  ventured  upon  this  deli- 
cate topic,  it  was  not  until  Isabel  had  become  so 
accustomed  to  yield  to  the  persuasive  tones  of  her 
preserver  and  guardian,  that  the  protestant  pastor's 
daughter  forsook  the  faith  for  which  her  father 
suffered  —  for  which  she,  as  well,  was  ready  to 
suffer  —  and  adopted  that  in  whose  communion  she 
could  walk  with  her  husband.  Mightier  than  Laud's 
power  of  prelacy,  or  fiercest  Torquemada  persecu- 
tions, are  the  soft  persuasions  of  love.  I  beseech 
you  not  to  think  too  unf  orgivingly  of  the  young  bride 
for  this  love-led  back-sliding  of  hers.  Rather  than  so, 
I  coujd  wish  you  to  disbelieve  the  story  outright; 
although  that,  besides  being  painful  to  my  own  feel- 
ings, would  be  deemed  impolite  by  the  whole  long 
descended  Lanaudiniere  family  of  Montreal,  whs 
would  consider  it  little  that  their  great-great-great 
grandfather  —  be  the  degree  of  his  grandf athership 
more  or  less  —  had  rescued  their  grandmother  in 
like  degree,  from  the  flames  of  savage  torture,  had 
he  not  also  saved  her  from  more  enduring  torments, 


16  TAGHCONIC. 

Should  you  visit  them  —  these  ancient  Lanaudi- 
nieres  —  in  their  ancient  Montreal  home,  they  will 
show  you,  in  a  richly  gilt  frame,  still  more  richly 
adorned  with  the  precious  tarnish  of  two  hundred 
honorable  years,  the  portrait  of  a  young  woman  with 
very  blue  eyes  very  widely  expanded;  with  very 
yellow  hair,  and  plump  cheeks,  in  which  very  red 
roses  meet  the  very  white,  but  very,  very  decidedly 
refuse  to  mingle.  A  silver  crucifix,  or  it  may  be  of 
ivory  —  envious  time  has  here  blurred  the  coloring  a 
little  —  rests  upon  a  very  full  and  a  very  fully  dis- 
played bosom;  while  the  faint  suspicion  of  a  halo, 
half  retiring  into  the  obscure  back-ground,  as  if 
doubtful  of  its  right  to  be  there,  hovers  above  the 
yellow  hair. 

You  will  ffuess  this  remarkable  picture  to  be 
enlarged  from  a  saintly  feminine  figure  in  the  old 
family  missal;  the  "specimen  piece"  perhaps,  of 
some  accomplished  Lanaudiniere  damsel  of  an  elder 
generation ;  or  possibly,  a  study  by  some  artistic  cadet 
of  the  house,  turned  monk.  Lacking  the  corrective 
contemplation  of  living  models,  the  imagination  of 
the  cloistered  artists,  in  their  lonely  cells,  was  wont 
to  play  strange  freaks  with  saintly  personages  of  the 
gentler  sex;  not  excepting  her  lovely  majesty,  the 
Queen  of  Heaven,  herself. 

But  your  guesses  will  be  all  wrong;  as  my  friends, 
the  Lanaudinieres,  will  tell  you,  as  politely  as  the  cir- 
cumstances will  admit.  And  they  will  add,  with 
half  offended  pride,  that  this  is  the  portrait  of  grand- 
mother Isabel :  a  o-if t  to  orrandf ather  Pierre  from  a 


STORIES    OF   A  TREE.  17 

renowned  Jesuit  missionary,  who  painted  it  with  his 
own  pious  hand,  that  the  world  might  not  lose  the 
memory  of  the  miracle  of  a  New  England  Puritan 
converted  to  the  old  faith.  Many  a  year  of  patient 
and  fruitless  labor  among  hundreds  of  that  stiff 
necked  race,  "  captivated  "  and  brought  to  Canada, 
had  taught  the  good  father  what  a  miracle  that  was. 
He  believed  that  it  was,  and  would  be,  unique.  But 
you  must  remember  that  he  was  a  celibate. 

This  preposterous  painting  is  prized  beyond  mea- 
sure by  the  present  generation  of  Lanaudinieres, 
although,  in  their  hearts,  they  know  as  well  as  I  do, 
that  it  is  not  in  the  least  like  gentle  grandma  Isabel; 
save  perhaps  in  the  modest  halo,  which  may  indeed 
have  glimmered  above  her  golden  hair,  if  saintly 
heads  are  ever  crowned  with  such  manifestations  of 
Divine  favor. 

The  neighbors  of  the  owners  of  this  portrait  —  the 
Protestant  neighbors  I  mean  —  maliciously  aver  that 
the  last  genuine  likeness  of  their  ancestress  departed 
from  the  Dominion  of  Canada,  when,  after  a  cere- 
mony that  was  not  performed  cathedral-wise,  another 
Isabel  Lanaudinere  sailed  away,  the  bride  of  a  young 
lieutenant-commander  in  Her  Britannic  Majesty's 
Sloop  of  War,  The  Whirligig  —  The  Whirligig  of 
Time,  the  Protestant  wits  of  Montreal  called  it.  It 
will  be  considerate  in  you  when  visiting  these  really 
excellent,  but  rather  over-sensitive,  people,  to  avoid 
all  allusion  to  Her  Majesty's  naval  service.  I  trust 
to  your  discretion,  also  not  to  repeat,  what  I  mention 
in  the  strictest  confidence,  that  their  much  prized 
Jesuitical  portrait  is  but  a  sad  caricature  of  features 


18  TAGHCONIC. 

even  too  delicate  for  perfect  beauty;  of  eyes  as 
guiltless  of  a  stare  as  the  violet's;  of  cheeks  which, 
never  round  or  rosy,  paled  more  and  more  to  her 
young  dying  day. 

Alas,  not  all  the  endearments  of  husband  and 
children,  not  the  fond  affection  of  new  friends,  nor 
the  charms  of  a  new  home,  could  altogether  banish 
the  memory  of  what  had  been  in  Old,  and  New, 
England. 

Meanwhile,  troubled  by  no  memories,  the  young 
Elm  grew  and  flourished.  Memory  never  troubles 
things  of  growth  and  living  verdure.  If  it  should 
seem  to  you  that  any  of  the  woodland  scenes  to 
which  I  am  leading  you  back,  are  "  sicklied  o'er"  by 
any  "  melancholy  cast"  of  that  kind,  be  assured  it  is 
but  a  sickly  fancy  of  your  own.  Take  boldly  with 
you  those  to  whom  you  have  loved  to  forecast  their 
charms.  They  shall  tell  you,  the  hills  of  Taghconic 
are  as  green,  the  sheen  of  their  lakes  as  sunny,  the 
echoes  of  their  valleys  as  joyous,  as  even  you  can 
have  portrayed  them.  The  woods  remember  little 
of  last  year's  wild  flowers  —  nothing  at  all  of  those 
which  perished  long  ago.  It  is  the  stern  old  rock, 
wrinkled  by  the  convulsions,  hardened  by  the  fires, 
and  furrowed  by  the  storms  of  infinite  cycles,  which 
forgets  not  the  most  gossamer-like  veining  of  the 
slender  fern  which,  in  his  far  off  youth,  lay  upon 
his  bosom  and  faded  there. 

But,  unmindful  even  of  the  buried  leaves  which 
nourished  its  young  life,  the  Elm,  quivering  with 
new  joy  in  the  new  verdure  of  each  new  year,  grew 
in  beauty  and  in  stature. 


STOKIES    OF    A   TREE.  19 

"  How  Straight  it  grows  !  "  said  the  Mohegan 
maiden. 

"  Straight  as  an  arrow  !  "  echoed  the  young  war- 
rior, himself  almost  as  arrow-like. 

Peril  the  Second. 

But  not  the  young  Elm  only,  grew  and  exulted  in 
the  strength  of  its  youth.  The  young  common- 
wealth —  the  Province  of  Massachusetts  Bay  —  also 
grew  apace.  And,  by  and  by,  some  century  and  a 
quarter  ago,  the  white  man  got  himself  sufficiently 
established  in  the  Indian's  Poontoosuck,  to  think  of 
clearing  the  highways,  which,  many  tumultuous 
years  before,  had  been  laid  out  very  broad  and 
straight;  as  the  Great  and  General  Court  at  Boston 
prescribed. 

Here  was  indeed  danger  for  our  Elm.  On  this  much 
tyrannized  globe,  there  is  not  another  despot  so  ob- 
durate to  every  appeal  for  justice  or  mercy,  as  that 
enemy  of  the  vested  rights  of  nature  in  her  own 
loveliness  —  the  old-fashioned  New  England  high- 
way surveyor:  of  whom  too  many  yet  remain,  to 
cumber  the  earth,  and  scrunch  out  her  delicate  graces 
with  their  hobnailed  heels.  Witness  a  thousand 
turf -robbed,  shade-bereft  waysides,  whose  dust  this 
torrid  summer  shall  rise  up  in  judgment  against 
these  ruthless  ravagers  of  their  comeliness  —  these 
soulless  deformers  of  the  lawn-like  knolls,  which 
nature,  with  all  her  marvelous  forces,  had  toiled  for 
a  myriad  years  to  round  into  perfect  grace. 

Remorseless  rascals,  they  were,  for  the  most  part, 


80  TAGHCONIC. 

those  old  tyrants  whose  resistless  scepter  was  that 
hideous  relic  of  barbarism,  the  ox-goad:  and  totheJf 
most  legitimate  rule,  our  dear  young  Elm  was  as 
clearly  subject  as  ever  hapless  ward  to  heartless 
Suzerain.  Something  savoring  of  the  miraculous 
was  needed  to  save  it  alive;  and  something  very  like 
a  miracle  happened. 

He  to  whom  that  cruel,  proding  scepter  was  first 
confided  in  the  young  plantation  of  Poontoosuc  — 
so  they  called  then,  what  is  Pittsfield  now  —  was  a 
stout  farmer  from  Wethersfield  in  Connecticut,  who 
had  become  lord  of  some  thousands  of  acres  scattered 
here  and  there  among  the  green  hills.  Tradition  has 
preserved  a  world  of  racy  and  romantic  stories  about 
him,  which  we  must  not  now  stay  for.  In  the 
Indian  wars  then  just  ended,  he  had  been  a  stout 
soldier;  and,  afterwards,  when  the  time  for  that 
came,  he  was  as  stout  a  patriot;  bold  alike  to  resist 
the  encroachments  of  kingly  power  and  the  crude 
license  of  a  newly  enfranchised  people.  Honor, 
always,  to  his  memory  for  these  things;  but,  here 
and  now,  chiefly  that,  one  summer  day  —  doubtless 
one  of  those  perfect  June  days,  which  still  come  in 
Berkshire,  bringing  all  that  is  best  in  a  man  to  the 
surface  —  with  that  sweet  summer  day  softening  the 
harshness  of  his  rude  work,  he  saw  reverently,  what 
in  those  forest-hating  years,  it  required  a  rare  eye  to 
see,  even  with  the  aid  of  the  most  heavenly  light, 
that  God  had  made  this  tree  passing  fair;  a  thing  co 
be  loved  and  honored  of  many  generations,  and  not 
to  be  rooted  up  like  a  pestilent  weed. 


STORIES    OF    A    TREE.  21 

Shall  we  praise  such  a  man  as  this  under  a  pseu- 
donjon  ?  Leave  him  a  mere  backwoods  tiominis 
umbra — an  unsubstantial  ghost  of  a  name;  to 
wander,  as  dimly  remembered,  in  the  dim  shades  of 
forgotten  forests  ?  I  trow,  not  we  !  Honor  then  to 
the  name  of  Captain  Charles  Goodrich  ! 

As  was  fitting,  he  had  honor;  had  it  for  many  a 
year  after  that  genial  June  day  when  he  saved  the 
Elm  alive;  until,  well  nigh  a  century  old,  he  died, 
and  was  borne  under  its  shadow  to  his  neighboring 
grave.     But  long  before  that,  the  tree  had  met  its 

Peril  the  Third. 

From  which,  to  use  the  pious  phraseology  of  that 
day.  Providence  again  raised  up  for  it  a  worthy  pre- 
server. 

In  that  grand  year,  1775,  the  most  soul-stirring  in 
all  Massachusetts  story,  a  gallant  and  spirited  youth 
was  enrolled,  among  the  students  of  Harvard  college, 
as  John  Chandler  Williams;  a  name  indicating  his 
kinship  with  two  families  of  considerable  standing 
in  the  scale  of  the  Provincial  gentry.  Any  quiet 
study  was  at  that  time  sadly  unattainable  in  the 
classic  shades  on  the  banks  of  the  Charles;  but  the 
young  gentlemen  were  not,  on  that  account,  neces- 
sarily idle.  In  fact,  several  of  them  were  notably 
busy,  one  well  remembered  April  day;  having  found 
occupation  with  some,  thenceforward  world-re- 
nowned, farmers. 

Young  Williams  was  among  them;  and  must  in 
some  way  have  distinguished  himself;  for,  not  many 


22  TAGHCONIC. 

days  after,  he  was  summoned  to  the  Provincial 
Congress,  then  in  session  at  Cambridge;  by  whom 
he  was  as  speedily  dispatched,  with  a  single  com- 
panion, upon  a  secret  and  delicate  mission;  every 
friend  of  the  liberties  of  the  Province  being  officially 
enjoined  to  help  him  on.  This  mission  was  no  less 
than  to  secure  the  correspondence  of  Governor 
Hutchinson  with  the  enemies  of  those  liberties  on 
both,  sides  the  Atlantic. 

These  important  documents,  having  been  left  with 
singular  carelesness  in  Hutchinson's  country-house  at 
Milton  Hill,  it  required  only  a  rapid  and  secret 
movement  to  secure  them;  and  they  revealed  all  His 
Excellency's  secrets,  about  which  the  congressmen 
had  so  lively  a  curiosity. 

The  congressmen  were  delighted;  thanked  their 
messenger  warmly;  voted  him  the  liberal  and  precise 
sum  of  £4.  4s.  Qd.;  and  then  probably  thought  no 
more  of  him.  But  he,  poor  fellow,  had  brought  to 
light  other,  and  more,  revelations  than  he  looked  for  ; 
as  you  shall  see. 

Student- wise,  John  Chandler  loved  his  cousin;  a 
fair  and  stately  cousin,  who  was  daughter  to  a 
grand  and  stately  old  father.  Now  this  father  — 
Colonel  Israel  Williams  of  Hatfield,  once  a  famous 
commander  of  the  Indian-fighting  militia  on  the 
Western  Border,  and  afterwards  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Common  Pleas  for  the  old  county  of  Hampshire  — 
had,  before  the  open  rupture  with  the  King's  Go- 
vernor, and  indeed  afterwards,  been  one  of  the  few 
friends  of  Parliament  in  the  General  Court.     None 


STORIES    OF    A    TEEE.  23 

of  the  acts  of  government  which  had  surrounded 
him  with  a  population  of  enraged  and  rebellious 
Whigs,  had  served  to  shake  his  own  loyalty  to  the 
British  crown;  so  that,  in  the  year  previous  to  his 
kinsman's  exploit  at  Milton  Hill,  Governor  Gage  ap- 
pointed him  one  of  his  thirty-six  councillors.  Man- 
damus councillors,  they  were  called,  being  created 
by  the  Royal  writ,  and  not  elected  by  the  Represent- 
atives of  the  people,  as  was  the  old  charter  privilege. 
Thus,  nothing  was  more  hateful  to  the  patriots  than 
a  Mandamus  councillor.  Resolved  that  their  vene- 
rable judge  should  not  become  this  odious  thing, 
they  —  as  a  mild  form  of  persuasion  —  shut  him  up  in 
a  small  school  house,  closed  the  windows,  built  a 
huge  pitch-pine  fire  in  the  ftmple  fire-place,  and  then 
blocked  the  chimney -top.  The  judge,  although  a 
brave,  and  withal  an  obstinate  man,  succumbed  — 
as  who  would  not  ? —  and  signed  a  renunciation  of  his 
ofiice,  with  whatever  other  pledges  his  tormentors 
saw  fit  to  dictate. 

There  were  a  good  many  hesitating  persons  made 
excellent  Whigs  by  processes  like  this.  But  Judge 
Williams  was  not  a  hesitating  person;  and,  having 
settled  it  in  his  judicial  mind  that  pledges  made 
under  duress  were  not  binding,  he,  like  a  prudent 
judge,  reserved  his  decision,  and  went  on  his  way, 
but  covertly,  the  same  old  servant  of  King  George. 
Trumbull  has  commemorated  his  pertinacity  in  his 
queer  old  Hudibrastic,  "  McFingal,"  where  he  makes 
that  hero  taunt  his  persecutors  with  the  futility  of 
theu-  methods: 


24  TAGHCONIC. 

"  Have  you  made  Murray  look  less  big. 
Or  smoked  old  Williams  to  a  Whig  ? 
Did  our  mobb'd  Oliver  quit  bis  station, 
Or  heed  his  vows  of  resignation  ?" 

Hutchinson's  unfortunate  letter-book  rendered 
Judge  Williams's  prudence  of  no  avail,  and  made  it 
apparent  that  he  had  furnished  the  royal  governor 
with  the  most  dangerous  information,  and,  still 
worse,  had  urged  the  severest  measures  against  the 
unruly  provincials. 

The  Whigs  can  hardly  be  blamed  that,  upon  this 
discovery,  they  threw  him  —  even  him,  one  of  the 
"  River  gods"  of  the  Connecticut  —  into  Northamp- 
ton jail.  It  is  what  follows,  that  shows  us  how  even 
zealous  patriots,  and  possibly,  although  that  is  not 
fully  established,  gallant  soldiers,  may  come  short 
of  being  in  the  least  chivalric  gentlemen,  or  even 
passable  Christians.  The  jails  of  a  century  ago 
were  miserable  places  at  the  best:  not  at  all  like  the 
comfortable  structures  in  which  modern  criminals 
recruit  their  exhausted  energies,  and  take  lessons  of 
infinite  value  in  their  after-rascal-life.  The  most 
favored  prisoner  could  not  congratulate  himself  on  a 
prolonged  residence  in  the  Northampton  jail  of  1775  ; 
and  Judge  Williams  was  not  a  favored  prisoner. 

We  might  forgive  that,  too,  remembering  the  fate 
which  he  had  contemplated  as  .fitting  for  his  jailors. 
In  our  distant,  latter-day  view,  it  would  no  doubt 
have  been  well  had  his  venerable  years  and  many 
services  to  his  people  softened  resentment  a  little; 
nay,  even  turned  aside  a  little  the  severity  which  the 


STORIES    OF   A   TREE.  25 

safety  of  the  country  seemed  to  require  against  those 
whose  loyalty  was  not  towards  her.  But  we  will 
not  complain  that  the  rigors  which  he  would  have 
visited  upon  others,  recoiled  upon  his  own  head. 
The  something  which  will  not  be  forgiven  while  the 
story  lives,  lies  beyond  that  also. 

His  fair  and  stately  daughter,  for  all  her  beauty 
and  all  her  stateliness,  was  as  loyal  to  her  father  as 
he  to  his  king.  Proud,  brilliant,  and  with  a  wit 
which  could  be  grandly  used  in  wrath  when  the  oc- 
casion demanded  wrath,  towards  him  she  was  gently 
and  devotedly  affectionate  as  only  a  strong  warm- 
hearted woman  can  be.  With  her  Roman  name  — 
have  I  said  that  she  was  called,  Lucretia  ? —  she  had 
some  noble  qualities  of  the  Roman  dames. 

Daily,  after  the  incarceration  of  her  father,  this 
noble  and  beautiful  girl  visited  him  in  prison  and 
ministered  to  his  wants.  And  daily,  as  she  passed 
to  and  from  his  place  of  confinement,  she  was  sub- 
jected to  taunts,  and  insulting  threats  against  him 
she  loved  so  well,  from  the  baser  fellows  who,  either 
in  official  positions  or  as  loiterers,  hung  about  the 
jail.  The  favorite  councillor  of  the  renegade  Gov- 
ernor Hutchinson,  and  the  chief  Tory  of  Western 
Massachusetts,  could  not  have  looked  for  extraordi- 
nary leniency  from  the  exasperated  partizans  who 
held  him  in  their  power;  but  ^Northampton  was  the 
home  of  Hawley  and  other  of  the  more  high-bred 
and  courtly  leaders  of  the  people,  who  could  hardly 
have  known  and  sanctioned  the  unmanly  treatment 
to  which  those  who  had  such  claims  upon  their 
8 


2G  TAGH  CONIC. 

courtesy  as  the  Tory  chief  aaid  his  daughter,  were 
subjected.  I  believe  that,  after  awhile,  they  did 
interfere.  The  judge  was  liberated;  and,  under  the 
surveillance  of  some  local  Revolutionary  committee, 
was  permitted  to  live,  with  such  comfort  as  in  that 
way  he  could,  until  the  close  of  the  war;  and  after- 
wards, for  some  years,  in  peace  and  freedom. 

In  the  western  counties  it  was  too  much  the  cus- 
tom to  leave  the  "handling  of  the  Tories," — as 
proceedings  against  the  loyalists  were  quaintly 
called,  to  violent  partisans,  who,  well  knowing  that 
the  powers  above  would  never  finally  consent  to  ex- 
treme punishments,  were  accustomed  to  provide  for 
their  prisoners  a  little  purgatory,  by  placing  them  in 
the  custody  of  coarse  and  vindictive  jailers,  who 
were  glad  to  undertake  the  ungracious  task  in  order 
to  gratify  some  ancient  pique  —  as  often  of  a  private 
as  of  a  public  origin.  It  was  not  alone  in  Revolu- 
tionary France  that,  under  the  cloak  of  patriotic 
zeal,  vulgar  envy  sought,  in  its  coarse  way,  to  humi- 
liate those  who  had  been  its  social  superiors,  and  low 
crime  to  avenge  itself  of  its  high-born  judges. 

What  was  the  exact  nature  of  the  insults  heaped 
upon  the  proud  Judge  Williams  and  his  prouder 
daughter  in  Northampton  jail,  we  can  only  con- 
jecture. Whatever  was  their  character,  the  latter 
curbed  her  resentment  for  the  time,  for  her  father's 
safety,  but  it  never  ceased  to  rankle  in  her  heart. 
To  her  the  name  of  Whig  was  always  hateful;  the 
glorious  Revolution  was  always  the  "  Rebellion,"  and 
the  theme  of  her  bitterest  wit;  and,  to  her  life's  end, 


STORIES    OF   A   TREE.  27 

she  proclaimed  herself  the  loyal  subject  of  whatever 
"Sacred  Majesty  "  filled  the  throne  of  Great  Britain. 

How,  in  this  temper,  she  arranged  matters  with 
the  lover  kinsman  who  had  so  large  a  share  in 
bringing  about  her  family  misfortunes,  the  parties 
interested  discreetly  kept  to  themselves :  as  I  had  oc- 
casion to  remark,  a  few  pages  back,  love  has  his  own 
way  out  of  all  perplexities.  But  we  hear  of  no  more 
patriotic  exploits  recklessly  performed  by  the  young 
John  Chandler,  who  went  sedately  back  to  college; 
graduated  with  high  honors  in  1778;  studied  law  with 
the  Honorable,  and  very  conservative  —  John  Worth- 
ington  at  Springfield;  and,  in  'due  time  —  himself 
became  a  conservative  counsellor,  and  Federal  poli- 
tician at  Pittsfield. —  And  yet  the  spirit  which  led 
him  to  Lexington  and  Milton  Hill  was  not  quenched; 
years  afterwards,  among  his  fellows  of  the  bar,  he 
was  still  "  Mad  Chandler,  the  Wild." 

The  offended,  but  tender-hearted,  Lucretia,  of  all 
the  world,  understood  perfectly  the  nature  of  the 
change  which  had  come  over  the  young  man;  and 
she  must  have  considered  it  as  meeting  her  at  least 
half  way.  At  any  rate,  they  commenced  married 
life,  about  the  year  1783,  in  the  fine  old  gambrel 
roofed  mansion  —  then  fresh  from  the  hands  of  the 
carpenters  —  which  you  still  see  among  the  Elms, 
across  the  park;  still  in  all  its  pristine  dignity.  And 
there  they  lived,  happy  and  prosperous;  there  died 
honored  and  lamented  by  all  around  them,  notwith- 
standing the  lady's  political  idiosyncj-asy. 

If  you  ask,  "  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  perils 
of  The  Old  Elm  ?  "     I  answer,  "  Much  every  way." 


28  TAGHCONIC. 

You  will  infer  with  me  that  such  a  woman  as 
Lucretia  Williams  would  love  bravely  where  she 
loved  warmly,  even  though  the  object  of  her  affec- 
tions were  but  a  rock  or  a  tree.  She  was  indeed  a 
true  lover  o£  the  beautiful  in  nature  ;  and  its  un- 
daunted defender,  as  well,  against  all  the  evil  fashions 
of  her  day.  To  her  we  owe  yonder  cathedral-like 
colonnade  of  elms,  with  whose  long  succession  of 
gothic  arches  she  surrounded  her  home;  first  reso- 
lutely levelling  the  poplar  grenadiers,  whose  stiff 
plumes,  being  of  the  latest  importation,  were  a-la- 
mode  for  all  courtly  court-yards.  Perhaps  they  re- 
minded her  unpleasantly  of  militia  sentinels  pacing 
around  Northampton  jail. 

For  seven  long  years,  however,  she  consoled  her- 
self, for  looking  through  these  objectionable  bundles 
of  lank  twigs,  by  the  luxuriant  foliage  and  graceful 
form  of  the  fair  elm  on  the  green  beyond.  She  had 
learned  to  love  it  well;  and  the  better  after  Captain 
Goodrich  —  a  frequent  and  congenial  visitor  at  the 
conservative  Williams  fireside  —  had  told  her  some- 
thing of  its  story.  Then,  in  the  seventh  year  —  or, 
to  be  precise,  Anno  Domini,  lYQO  —  came  the  Elm's 
Third  Peril. 

The  town  had  hitherto  worshiped  in  a  little  brown 
meeting  house,  rich  in  grand  memories,  but  poor  as 
it  well  could  be  in  every  other  respect.  Now  they 
resolved  to  build  anew,  in  splendor  commensurate 
with  their  increased  wealth  and  larger  figure  in  the 
world's  eye.  A  famous  Boston  architect  —  one 
Colonel  Bulfinch  —  furnished  a  most  ornate  design 


STORIES    OF   A   TEEE.  -  29 

evidently  suggested  by  Faneuil  Hall,  but  intended 
to  eclipse  that  renowned  edifice:  and,  after  the  man- 
ner of  his  craft,  sent  a  superbly  colored  representa- 
tion of  it,  with  a  profusion  of  scrolls,  brackets, 
pillars,  arches  and  what  not,  which  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  Dame  Prudence  were  largely  omitted  in' the 
completed  structure. 

When  this  astonishing  "  design "  was  handed 
around  among  the  congregation  at  the  next  Sabbath 
nooning,  the  admiration  was  so  intense  that  there 
was  danger  lest,  as  in  some  modern  instances,  the  new 
building  would  become  a  House  of  Worship  in  an 
equivocal  sense.  But  the  immediate,  the  "  imminent 
deadly,"  peril  was  to  the  Elm.  There  was  then 
around  it  neither  park  nor  public  square  —  nothing 
but  a  little  grass  plot,  kept  from  the  public  travel 
in  the  broad  street  by  immemorial  custom.  On  the 
outer  edge  of  this  green,  and  well  into  the  legal 
highway,  by  the  grace  of  God  inspiring  Captain 
Goodrich,  the  Elm  still  kept  its  place,  with  the  little 
old  meeting-house  almost,  or  quite,  under  the  shade 
of  its  spreading  branches.  It  was  intended  to  place 
the  new  building  upon  the  site  of  the  old;  but,  with 
the  excitement  created  by  its  architectural  promise, 
came  a  desire  for  a  more  conspicuous  location. 

A  large  share  of  the  more  resplendent  glories  of 
the  proposed  edifice  were  concentrated  in  the  tower 
and  belfry;  and  these,  it  was  discovered,  would  de- 
light a  majority  of  the  citizens  when  on  their  way 
to  church  or  market,  if  only  they  were  thrust  a  few 
feet  into  the  highway.     True,  this  would  mar  the 


80  TAGHCONIC. 

fair  proportions  prescribed  for  the  street  by  the 
esthetic  old  legislators  at  Boston,  and,  what  at  this 
distance  seems  quite  as  bad,  would  involve  the  de- 
struction of  the  Elm.  But,  then,  incontestibly,  the 
street  would  still  be  wide  enough  for  all  the  purposes 
of  travel;  and  were  there  not  innumerable  elms  in 
the  near  forest  ?  We  have  lately  cut  oif  the  superb 
vista  of  the  same  street  by  an  ugly  brick  railway 
station  house;  and  it  will  hardly  do  to  call  that 
vandalism  in  the  fathers  which  must  be  taste  and 
culture  in  the  sons.  At  any  rate,  whatever  we  may 
call  it,  the  people,  in  town  meeting  assembled,  de- 
termined to  make  the  sacrifice;  although  not  without 
stout  opposition  from  Captain  Goodrich,  "  Squire" 
Williams,  and  others  who  held  God's  beautiful  crea- 
tions to  be  esteemed  beyond  man's  fairest  handi- 
work. If  the  Elm's  indwelling  dryad  had  not  before 
been,  exorcised  by  the  prayers  or  frightened  away 
by  what  passed  for  music  in  the  old  church,  she 
must  have  shuddered  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  its 
trunk,  at  the  horrid  speeches  and  resolutions  of 
that  town  meeting. 

In  the  Williams  mansion  there  was  grief,  con- 
sternation, lamentation,  indignation;  and  then  a 
determined  purpose  to  resist  the  barbarous  edict,  so 
far  at  least  as  it  concerned  the  Elm.  Madam 
Williams  did  not  melodiously  request  the  woodmen 
to  spare  her  favorite  tree;  partly,  perhaps,  because 
there  was  no  ballad  to  that  effect  in  her  repertoire  ; 
but  chiefly,  no  doubt,  that  such  was  not  the  lady's 
manner  of  aiding  her  friends  in  their  extreme  dis- 


STOEIES    OF   A    TREE.  31 

tress.  It  is  of  tradition  that  once  in  her  girlhood  she 
threw  herself,  with  triumphant  daring,  between  her 
father  and  a  raging  mob  of  exasperated  Whigs. 
The  story  is  not  verified  beyond  historical  doubt, 
but  it  is  likely  enough  to  be  true.  By  a  resort  to 
similar  feminine  tactics,  she  certainly  saved  the  Elm; 
placing  herself  resolutely  before  it  when  the  ax  men 
came  to  perform  their  fell  task. 

Here  was  a  curiously  sad  dilemma  for  the  puzzled 
executors  of  the  town's  wicked  will.  Had  almost 
any  other  woman  thus  stood  in  the  path  of  municipal 
wrong-doing,  she  would  have  been  thrust  aside  with 
small  ceremony;  if  not  with  a  sharp  threat  of  some 
of  those  ingenious  and  highly  civilized  punishments 
contrived  by  the  keen-witted  New  England  fathers, 
lest  the  impulsive  sex  should  rush  madly  from  their 
sphere. 

But  with  a  lawyer's  spouse  it  was  quite  another 
matter;  that  is,  if  man  and  wife  were  in  perfect  ac- 
cord, as  the  Williamses  were  to  a  proverb.  In  those 
superstitious  days,  a  gentleman  of  the  green  bag  was 
held  a  most  uncanny  person  to  deal  with  at  odds. 
It  was  grewsome  to  think  what  dread  processes  he 
might  evoke  from  the  mystic  depths  of  that  weird 
receptacle  .of  the  law's  imperious  dicta  and  scripta  ; 
or  from  the  still  more  occult  and  awful  recesses, 
where  he  sat,  among  massive  and  inscrutable  tomes, 
well  known  by  their  potent  words  to  have  charmed 
many  a  man  out  of  a  fair  estate,  and  into  a  foul  jail. 
Not  that  Squire  Williams  was  known  ever  to  have 
wrongfully  used  his  abstruse  learning.    On  the  con 


32  TAGHCONIC. 

trary  he  was  counted  a  rather  benevolent  sort  of 
dealer  in  the  law's  black  art;  given  to  the  defense  of 
the  poor,  the  protection  of  the  widow  and  the  father- 
less, and  to  bringing  the  counsel  of  the  wicked  to 
naught:  still  there  was  no  telling  what  latent  fiend- 
ishness  might  be  developed  even  in  so  benevolent  a 
wizard;  for  was  he  not  an  attorney  after  all  ? 

There  were  therefore  none  to  lay  violent  hands 
upon  Madam  Williams,  even  with  the  town's  most 
puissant  warrant.  Nay,  even  the  Selectmen  felt  that 
a  dreadful  weight  was  lifted  from  their  mighty 
breasts,  when  they  found  that  the  Squire  would  take 
only  a  generous  advantage  of  their  ludicrous  pre- 
dicament. 

As  I  have  said,  there  was,  around  the  Elm,  no 
green  or  public  square,  such  as  adorned  a  few  of  the 
more  aspiring  villages  of  the  Commonwealth;  but  a 
vision  of  such  a  glory  had  danced  before  the  eyes 
of  some  of  the  more  ambitious  citizens ;  and  especially 
dazzled  the  not  inconsiderable  number  who  held  com- 
missions in  the  militia,  and  already  in  imagination 
saw  themselves  resplendent  upon  a  parade  ground 
worthy  of  their  most  gorgeous  array.  The  un- 
sophisticated chieftains  would  have  stared  at  the 
suggestion  of  coping  and  curbing  it  into  an  out-of- 
door  parlor. 

Mr.  Williams  shrewdly  seized  the  opportunity  to 
offer  for  a  village  green,  so  much  of  his  land  south 
of  the  Elm,  as  the  town  would  devote  to  the  same 
purpose  from  their  domain  on  the  north,  used  for  a 
meeting-house  site  and  burial  ground.     Under  tliese 


STOBIES    OF    A    TREE.  33 

conditions,  it  would  be  hard  to  guess  how  far  the 
new  church  would  have  receded,  had  not  a  great 
part  of  the  burial-ground  been  already  well  filled 
with  graves.  The  old  puritanic  folk  held  it  idle,  or 
worse,  to  consecrate  their  cemeteries;  nor  did  they 
cover  them  with  conservatories,  or  convert  them  into 
driving  parks.  I  fancy  they  would  have  eschewed 
the  word,  cemetery,  as  savoring  of  paganism.  But 
they  held  sacred  so  much  at  least  of  the  dust  in  their 
plain  grave-yards  as  had  once  been  animated  by 
living  spirits;  and  they  shrunk  from  making  money, 
or  saving  it,  by  secularizing  the  soil  with  which  the 
ashes  of  their  dead  were  inseparably  mingled.  So 
they  were  fain  to  content  themselves,  in  this  instance, 
with  a  village-green  of  moderate  dimensions. 

It  chiefly  concerns  us,  however,  that,  by  the 
bravery  of  Madam  Williams  and  the  timely  gene- 
rosity of  her  husband,  the  Elm  was   again  saved. 

And  now  the  love  of  the  people  began  to  go  out 
more  and  more  towards  it.  Fond  associations 
clustered  faster  and  faster  around  it;  growing  more 
tender,  and  gaining  a  richer  flavor  with  age  —  as 
may  always  be  expected  of  such  luxuries,  as  well  as 
of  others  of  a  less  sentimental  caste.  Children  pur- 
sued their  noisy  sports  under  the  tree's  expanding 
shade,  pausing  often  to  form  fabulous  estimates  of 
its  size  and  centuries;  which,  for  the  most  part, 
their  later  years  never  found  time  to  revise.  In  the 
near  academy,  the  village  boys  ,and  girls  played 
their  pretty  prelude  to  life's  drama.  Here  were  the 
athletic   ofames  whose  best  remembered  feat  —  en- 


84  TAGHCONIC. 

titling  the  youth  who  performed  it  to  a  place  in  the 
town's  little  Valhalla  —  was  to  hurl  a  ball  over  the 
Elm's  loftiest  branch.  Here  lovers  lingered  a  pre- 
cious moment  in  their  moonlight  walks.  Here  were 
the  Fourth  of  July  celebrations,  the  cattle  shows, 
and  all  the  country  gala-days  which  bring  boyhood 
back  to  the  most  prosaic  citizen  who  has  a  heart  in 
him;  even  if  it  glow  only  at  these  long  intervals  — 
as  some  fanciful  people  aver  that  comets  periodically 
revisit  the  sun  to  replenish  their  stock  of  "  caloric," 
wasted  by  measureless  wanderings  in  coldest  space. 
And,  while  the  noble  tree  was  thus  sending  its  roots 
deep  down  into  the  hearts  of  the  town's-people,  it 
was  also  growing  up  to  fame;  for  travelers  celebrated 
it  in  their  books,  and  poets  in  their  verse. 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  when  any  "  to 
the  manor  born"  went  out  into  the  great  world 
beyond  the  mountains,  the  Old  Elm  was  the  center 
around  which  clustered  all  their  memories  of  home; 
and  when  any  stranger  visited  the  village,  it  was  the 
first  object  of  his  search  —  unless,  as  was  most  likely, 
it  had  been  the  first  to  greet  his  approach. 

Doom. 

But,  escaping  all  peril,  to  trees  as  to  men,  comes 
at  last  that  which  is  not  danger,  but  doom.  And, 
as  with  man,  so  with  the  tree  to  whose  mortality  the 
sacred  writers  so  often  liken  our  own,  the  life  which 
aspires  the  most  loftily  best  chances  to  meet  a  noble 
death.  It  so  happened  with  our  Elm.  A  thunder- 
bolt fell   crashingly  upon  it,    and  darting  straight 


STORIES    OF   A   TREE.  35 

down  its  tall  trunk,  ploughed  a  wound  of  ghastly- 
whiteness  from  stricken  bough  to  seared  root.  The 
fiery  fluid  dried  up  the  juices  in  its  old  veins,  and 
the  whole  tree,  although  cared  for  with  almost  filial 
tenderness,  began  slowly  to  perish.  But,  even  in 
its  death  it  was  fortunate.  The  long  white  streak 
pencilled  by  the  scathing  lightning  in  its  smooth 
bark,  caught  the  eye  of  Herman  Melville,  who,  in 
his  wonderful  story  of  "The  White  Whale,"  thus 
interwove  it  in  his  strong-lined  portrait  of  Captain 
Ahab: 

"Threading  its  way  out  from  among  his  grey 
hairs,  and  continuing  straight  down  one  side  his 
tawney  scorched  face  and  neck  until  it  disappeared 
in  his  clothing,  you  saw  a  slender,  rod-like  mark, 
lividly  whitish.  It  resembled  that  perpendicular 
seam  sometimes  made  in  the  straight,  lofty  trunk  of 
a  great  tree,  when  the  upper  lightning  tearingly  darts 
down  it,  and  without  wrenching  a  single  twig,  peals 
and  grooves  out  the  bark,  from  top  to  bottom,  ere, 
running  off  into  the  soil,  leaving  the  tree  still  greenly 
alive,  but  branded." 

There  you  have  a  graphic  picture  of  the  old  Elm 
in  its  decay.  And  thus  in  its  death-stroke,  it  found 
a  new  life:  as  the  ancients  fabled  that  they  who 
were  slain  by  Jove's  thunderbolts  thereby  became 
immortal. 

The  brave  old  tree  had  clearly  received  his  death 
wound,  and  remained  "  greenly  alive"  but  for  a 
space,  and  only  as  to  a  few  scanty  boughs.  Still, 
grandly  wearing  this  meager  coronal,  and  erect  as: 


36  TAGHCONIC. 

when  tke  Indian  maiden  likened  it  to  her  warrior 
lover,  it  looked  as  if  proudly  conscious  of  the  vene- 
ration which  it  inspired;  as  I  have  seen  some  white- 
haired  citizen  walking  beneath  it,  in  a  vigorous  old 
age,  full  of  the  memories  of  a  gracious  youth  and  a 
beneficent  manhood.  And,  each  spring  when  the 
young  grove  about  it  began  to  put  forth  its  buds, 
the  question,  "  Will  the  old  Elm  survive  this  year 
also  ? "  was  anxiously  asked  by  a  whole  people 
whose  love  for  it  in  its  grand  decrepitude  and  decay 
exceeded  even  that  of  Lucretia  Williams  for  its 
leafy  prime. 

Twice  again  it  "  midway  met  the  lightnings,"  and 
then,  one  summer  morning,  the  whisper  passed  along 
the  street  that  the  Elm  was  bending  to  its  fall. 

The  axe  —  in  kindness  now  —  gently  aided  its  slow 
descent,  until  in  the  afternoon  it  lay  prostrate ;  while 
men  whom  the  world  does  not  accuse  of  immoderate 
sentimentality,  stood  aloof,  literally  weeping;  and 
the  more  mercurial  crowd  rushed  eagerly  to  secure  a 
chip,  a  leaf,  a  twig,  a  branch — any  relic  of  their 
old  friend.  Soon  wherever  they  who  had  held  it 
in  reverence  were  scattered  abroad,  bits  of  its  wood 
set  in  gold,  appeared  among  their  richest  jewels;  or, 
in  less  costly  guise,  were  treasured  in  the  most  sacred 
reliquaries  of  their  thousand  homes. 

And,  lo,  when  the  tree's  inmost  heart  was  laid 
open,  there  preserved,  were  found  the  tokens  of  its 
earliest  perils  and,  pervading  its  whole  tissue,  the 
unbroken  memories  of  all  its  summers,  and  all  that 
they  had  done  for  it.  Said  I  that  the  woods  remem- 
ber nothing  ? 


STORIES    OF    A    TREE.  37 

THE  GREY  OLD  ELM  OF  PITTSFIELD  PARK. 

Tell  U8  a  tale,  thou  grey  old  tree, 

A  tale  of  thy  leafy  prime  ; 
For  thine  was  a  home  in  the  forest,  free. 

Ere  our  bold  forefathers'  time. 
Thou  sawest  the  wild-wood  all  alight 

With  the  bale-fire's  direful  glare. 
Where  now  the  murkiest  gloom  of  night. 

Our  household  fires  make  fair. 

Then  tell  us  a  tale,  thou  grey  old  tree, 

A  tale  of  thy  leafy  prime, 
Of  the  wild-eyed  red  man  roaming  free. 

Or  our  fathers'  deeds  sublime  1 

Say,  when  the  gorgeous  laurel  tiowers 

And  sweet-briar's  bloom  were  gay 
If  here,  in  the  forest's  fragrant  hours, 

Some  dusky  loves  would  stray  ! 
Sadly,  we  know,  the  captive's  sigh 

With  thy  murmuring  sound  was  blent  : 
Oh  tell  of  the  love  and  the  courage  high 

That  the  captive's  bondage  rent. 

Ay,  tell  us  a  tale,  thou  grey  old  tree, 

A  tale  of  thy  leafy  prime, 
Of  the  wild-eyed  red  man  roaming  free, 

Or  our  fathers'  det-ds  sublime ! 

Tell  us  the  tale  how  the  forest  fell 

And  the  graceful  spire  arose  ; 
And,  charmed  by  the  holy  pealing  bell, 

How  the  valley  found  repose. 
Our  heritage  here,  with  the  blow  and  prayer. 

Was  won  by  the  good  and  brave. 
While  over  their  toils,  like  a  banner  in  air, 

They  saw  thy  branches  wave. 
4 


88  TAGHCONIC. 

Then  tell  us  a  tale,  tliou  grey  old  tree, 
A  tale  of  thy  leafy  prime, 

Of  the  wild-eyed  red  man  roaming  free. 
Or  our  fathers'  deeds  sublime  1 

Ah,  dearly  we  love  thy  wasting  form. 

Thou  pride  of  our  stern  old  sires, 
Though  torn  by  the  rage  of  the  darting  storm, 

And  the  lightning's  scathing  fires  ; 
And  dearly  the  sons  of  the  mountain  vale 

Wherever  their  exile  be, 
Will  thrill  as  they  list  to  the  song  or  tale 

If  it  speak  of  their  home  or  thee ! 

Then  tell  us  a  tale,  thou  grey  old  tree, 
A  tale  of  thy  leafy  prime. 

Of  the  wild-eyed  red  man  roaming  free. 
Or  our  fathers'  deeds  sublime  I 


m. 

ANOTHER  STORY. 


What   came  of,   aitd  to,   Chandler  Williams's 
Village  Green. 

"  For  tlie  soldier's  trade,  verilv  and  essentially,  is  not  slay- 
ing, but  being  slain.  This,  without  well  knowing  its  own 
meaning,  the  world  honors  it  for.  A  bravo's  trade  is  slaying; 
but  the  world  has  never  respected  bravos  more  than  merchants ; 
the  reason  it  honors  the  soldier  is  because  he  holds  his  life  at 
the  service  of  the  state.  Reckless  he  may  be  —  fond  of 
pleasure  or  adventure.  All  kinds  of  bye-motives  and  mean 
motives  may  have  determined  his  choice  of  a  profession,  and 
may  affect  (to  all  appearance  exclusively)  his  conduct  in  it ; 
but  our  estimate  of  him  is  based  on  this  ultimate  fact  —  of 
which  we  are  well  assured  —  that,  pat  him  in  a  fortress  breach, 
with  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world  behind  him,  and  only 
death  and  his  duty  before  him,  he  will  keep  his  face  to  the 
front ;  and  he  knows  that  this  choice  may  be  put  to  him  at 
auy  moment,  and  l  as  before  hand  taken  his  part —  virtually 
takes  such   part   continually;   does   in  reality   die   daily."  — 

And,  of  the  spot  whereon  the  Old  Elm  once  stood, 
what  ?  Other  stories,  and  grander  than  the  simple 
tales,  I  have  ventured  to  tell,  early  ennobled  it;  but 
must  nevertheless  have  the  briefest  narration  here. 

Near  yonder  very  prosaic  brick  corner,  bounding 


40  TAGHCONIC. 

one  of  the  most  park-like,  and  least  prosaic  of  streets, 
stood,  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  quaint  old  gambrel- 
roofed  tavern  of  Colonel  James  Easton;  the  com- 
mander of  the  Berkshire  Militia,  and  Ethan  Allen's 
lieutenant  in  the  capture  of  Ticonderoga.  And,  to 
its  hospitable  door,  late  on  the  dark  and  rainy  evening 
of  May-day,  1775,  came  Captain  Edward  Mott  and 
his  little  band  of  sixteen  Connecticut  men,  stoutly 
resolved,  by  the  Grace  of  God,  and  with  the  help 
assured  them  among  the  Green  Mountains,  to  wrest 
"  the  Key  of  North  America  "  from  the  grasp  of 
Great  Britain.  At  midnight  in  the  most  secret 
chamber  of  the  old  inn,  although  the  bar-room  had 
long  been  emptied  of  its  tonguey  revellers  —  while 
the  great  raindrops  dashed  and  spattered  against  the 
pigmy  window-panes,  and  a  generous  tankard  of 
aromatic  punch  steamed  before  each  wet  and  wearied 
guest  —  the  Connecticut  leaders  held  council  with 
five  or  six  bold  and  true  men  of  the  vicinage;  among 
them  their  host,  and  his  neighbor.  Ensign  —  after- 
wards Colonel  —  John  Brown;  a  member  of  the  Pro- 
vincial Congress,  who,  being  specially  charged  by 
that  body  with  efforts  for  the  acquisition  of  Canada, 
was  the  projector  of  this  present  expedition,  as  well 
as  of  many  another  daring  adventure  afterward. 

Before  dawn,  not  to  endanger  the  secresy  of  their 
plans  by  adding  to  their  company  here,  Easton  and 
Mott  crossed  the  Taghconic  ridge,  and  passing  up 
the  secluded  and  romantic  valley  of  Hancock  (it 
will  well  repay  you  to  do  the  same,  ev.en  with  a  much 
less   stirring  errand)    they   were   joined  by  twenty- 


THE   VnXAGB   GEEEN.  41 

four  stalwart  minutemen,  with  Capt.  Asa  Douglas  — 
a  "  Douglas,  trusty  and  true  "  —  at  their  head.  In 
the  meanwhile,  Ensign  Brown  and  the  remainder  of 
the  party,  starting  also  under  cover  of  the  darkness, 
drove  up  the  Berkshire  valley  to  Williamstown, 
where  they  were  joined  by  fifteen  other  bold  and 
trusty  yeomen.  Then  all  began  their  march  to  join 
Ethan  Allen  and  the  Green  Mountain  Boys.  All  the 
world  knows  how  that  march  ended.  The  spot  where 
the  men  of  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut  first  met 
in  council  concerning  it,  in  the  home  of  one  of  the 
earliest,  the  bravest,  and  the  truest  of  Revolutionary 
patriots,  should  be  held  as  sacredly  memorable  as 
those  resting  places  in  old,  renowned  pilgrimages 
which  royal  piety  marked  with  monumental  crosses. 

And,  on  yonder  other  corner,  where,  among  ances- 
tral trees,  a  massive  mansion  marks  the  site,  stood  the 
modest  dwelling  in  which  lived  and  died  the  Parson 
of  Bennington  Field.  In  the  little  brown  meeting- 
house under  the  branches  of  the  Elm,  year  in  and 
year  out,  he  preached  that  the  Gospel  of  Liberty 
was  part  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ;  and  much  fruit 
came  of  it :  sweet  and  bitter,  but  for  the  most  part 
wholesome.  Potent  to-day  beyond  much  which 
struggles  visibly  —  and  all  too  audibly  —  for  power, 
his  spirit  still  lives  and  walks  abroad  among  these 
hills:  and  not  here  only,  but  far  away  in  ever-ex- 
tending paths. 

A  hundred  years  ago  the  pulpit  of  the  little  meet- 
ing house  was  indeed  the  seat  of  power;  so  that 
wlien  the  patriot  soldiers   gathered  on  the  narrow 


42  TAGHCONIC. 

green  before  its  door,  it  seemed  as  if  their  hearts 
had  been  verily  touched  with  a  live  coal  from  its 
altar.  And,  from  this  holy  rallying  place,  inspired 
anew  by  solemn  prayer  and  fervent  exhortation, 
they  marched  away  to  Canada,  Bennington,  Sara- 
toga, Stone- Arabia,  or  wherever  else  Berkshire  blood 
flowed  for  freedom. 

Where  they  thus  assembled,  the  national  inde- 
pendence which  they  helped  to  achieve  had  been  com- 
memorated, with  rural,  but  not  unmeaning,  pomp, 
for  well  nigh  a  hundred  years,  when  treason  as- 
sailed the  nation's  life.  Then,  on  the  same  spot 
where  the  fathers  met  to  consecrate  their  lives  to 
the  service  of  their  country,  the  sons  assembled  for 
the  same  holy  purpose.  Even  while  the  tall  Elm 
still  waved  its  branches  —  a  tattered  banner  —  above 
them,  the  minute-men  of  1861  responded  to  the  first 
note  of  alarm  as  eagerly  and  promptly  as  the 
minute-men  of  1'775  sprang  to  arms  when  the 
reveille,  beaten  by  drums  as  far  away  as  Lexington 
Common,  announced  the  dawning  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. 

The  old  tree  fell:  but,  year  after  year,  often  and 
often,  the  peal  of  other  than  church-going  bells,  and 
other  music  than  that  of  the  organ  and  the  choir, 
deepened  the  solemnity  of  the  Sabbath,  and  sum- 
moned the  people  to  high  conference  in  the  young 
grove  which  succeeded  to  its  honors.  How  vivid  is 
the  memory;  yet  how  distant  seem  those  strangely 
awful  Sabbaths,  and  those  anxious  nights  when  the 
lurid  glare  of  torched  fitfully  lit  up  the  over-hang- 


THE    VILLAGE    GEEEN.  43 

ing  foliage  and  the  endangered  flag,  while  eloquent 
voices  from  some  rude  rostrum,  told  the  danger  of 
the  hour  to  those  whose  souls  were  already  heavy 
with  the  consciousness  of  it. 

At  hours  like  these,  or  when,  at  busy  noon,  the 
clangor  of  bells  and  trumpets  hushed  the  more  sordid 
sounds  of  trade  and  traffic,  what  new  and  conflict- 
ing emotions  struggled  in  every  breast,  as  those  most 
full  of  life  and  life's  longings  were  adjured  to  risk 
all  in  the  defence  of  that  which  was  dearer  than  all. 
Duty,  religion,  a  pure  patriotism,  a  noble  ambition  ; 
how  fervently  each  was  urged  in  its  turn.  What 
promises  of  life-long  honor,  and  tender  regard,  to  be 
shared  by  none  —  what  prophecies  of  enduring  fame, 
glowed  upon  the  lips  of  the  orators  !  And,  ever 
and  anon,  as  the  young  and  faithful-hearted  —  glori- 
fying the  plain  tables  at  which  they  sat  into  sacredest 
altars  —  enrolled  themselves  in  the  Grand  Army  of 
the  Nation's  Defenders,  how  the  ringing  plaudits, 
bursting  from  the  full  hearts  of  the  people,  seemed 
borne  by  the  rolling  echoes  of  drums  far  into  the 
promised  future. 

What  other  memories,  in  the  lives  of  any  of  us 
who  did  not  share  in  the  actual  conflict  of  arms,  can 
compare  in  grandeur,  with  the  recollection  of  those 
sublime  moments;  and  of  others,  intermingled  with 
them,  when  regiment  after  regiment  with  sad,  but 
proudly  unregretful,  farewells  —  and  not  without 
solemn  prayer  and  fervent  exhortation,  as  of  old, 
from  reverend  lips — marched  hence  to  do  or  to  suffer 
that   for  which    they   had   set    themselves   apart  ? 


44  TAGHCONIC. 

Then,  whatever  gloom  might  overhang  the  hour, 
we  knew  that  the  old  heroic  spirit,  which,  in  the 
foolishness  of  our  hearts,  we  had  thought  passed 
away  forever,  had  come  again  in  all  its  fullness; 
and  that  the  old  triumph  was  assured. 

Here  and  there  a  taint  of  mean  ambition,  or 
meaner  avarice,  you  may  have  detected  in  those  who 
received  these  plaudits,  although  I  hope  that  you- 
were  better  minded  than  to  be  seeking  for  it.  An 
army  of  purely  unselfish  men,  marching  in  any  array, 
were  conceivable  only  in  an  age  which  shall  be  free 
of  all  armies;  in  that,  namely,  when  nations  "shall 
beat  their  swords  into  plough  shares,  and  their  spears 
into  pruning  hooks." 

For  this  present,  be  content  that,  as  to  all  who 
enrolled  themselves,  and  —  with  whatever  ulterior 
reward  in  view  —  did  become  actual  soldiers,  we 
come,  at  least,  if  to  nothing  better,  to  Mr.  Ruskin's 
"  ultimate  fact  "  of  the  soldier's  soldierly  fidelity  to 
the  state  under  whose  flag  he  has  enlisted. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  in  how  many  did  you  dis- 
cover a  purity  of  purpose  and  of  soul,  a  stern  sub- 
jection of  self  to  duty,  an  unboastful  heroism  so 
unlooked  for,  an  intellectual  strength  in  quarters  so 
unsuspected,  that  they  seemed  like  a  new  and  sudden 
inspiration  from  Heaven.  So  illy  do  we  read  that 
which  lies  behind  the  eyes  into  which  we  daily  look. 
Nay,  the  revelation  vouchsafed  to  our  great  need, 
seems  in  these  less  exalted  days  so  incomprehensible 
that  we  are  fast  losing  it  in  clouds  and  doubt. 

Yet  surely  such  men  were  —  and  are  —  and  they 


THE    VILLAGE    GREEN.  46 

did  in  verity  shed  a  luster  upon  our  arms  beyond 
that  of  conquest.  They  did  exist;  enough  of  them 
in  almost  every  New  England  village,  to  ennoble  its 
name  —  if  their  story  could  but  be  worthily  told. 

Their  ideal,  but  deeply  truthful,  type,  wrought  in 
enduring  bronze,  surmounts-  yonder  monument,  the 
memorial  of  those  who  marched  hence,  to  sacrifice 
their  young  lives  in  the  defence  of  their  country.  I 
pray  you  mark  that  statue  well:  it  is  no  common 
work;  but  the  tribute  of  genius,  to  heroism,  patriotic 
devotion,  and  much  else.  It  represents  simply  a 
color-sergeant  of  the  Union  army,  standing  in  line- 
of -battle,  and  looking  eagerly  and  thoughtfully  into 
the  distance.  The  figure  is  erect,  but  slightly  sup- 
ported by  the  staff  of  the  colors,  which  it  grasps 
with  both  hands  —  the  right  also  gathering  the  flag 
into  graceful  folds.  The  work  is  correct  in  detail 
as  well  as  truthful  in  its  grand  effect;  but  these  are 
its  minor  and  prosaic  merits;  there  is  more  in  it  than 
these.  Both  face  and  figure  are  of  a  peculiar  military 
type  —  as  unique  and  readily  recognized  as  that  of 
the  French  Zouave  or  the  Cossack  trooper  —  which 
the  war  for  the  Union  developed  from  material  which 
it  found  rough-moulded  in  every  Northern  village. 
You  will  see,  as  you  study  his  work,  that  the 
sculptor's  ideal  was  a  bold,  frank,  generous  man; 
resolute  rather  than  defiant,  of  valor  without  ferocity, 
of  gentle  heart,  without  weakness;  self-reliant,  but 
modest;  capable  of  either  commanding  or  obeying; 
looking  into  the  future  as  well  as  the  distance;  a 
man  with  such  stuff  in  him  as  poets  and  orators  and 
statesmen,  as  well  as  conquering  soldiers,  are  made  of. 


46  TAGHCONIC. 

They  dedicated  this  memorial  one  genial  Septem- 
ber day,  with  much  memorable  eloquence,  and  much 
military  and  other  pomp,  of  which  I  will  only  here 
recall,  that,  among  those  who  had  large  part  in  it  by 
word  or  work,  was  he 

"  As  Galahad  pure,  as  Merlin  sage ; 
What  worthier  knight  was  found 
To  grace  in  Arthur's  golden  age 
The  fabled  Table,  round? 

A  voice,  the  battle's  trumpet  note, 

To  welcome  and  restore  ; 
A  hand  that  all  unwilling  smote. 

To  heal  and  build  once  more. 

A  soul  of  fire,  a  tender  heart 

Too  warm  for  hate,  he  knew 
The  generous  victor's  graceful  part, 

To  sheath  the  sword,  he  drew. 

The  more  than  Sidney  of  our  day, 

Above  the  sin  and  wrong 
Of  civil  strife,  he  heard  alway 

The  angel's  advent  song." 

J3?m,  I  may  single  out,  not  invidiously,  from  those 
who  on  that  September  day  joined  in  consecrating 
this  monument  to  its  hallowed  purposes;  for,  even 
while  mingling  his  monitions  to  his  surviving  com- 
rades, with  laudations  for  the  dead,  his  enfeebled 
frame  prophecied  but  too  truly  that  his  life,  too, 
would  soon  be  added  to  the  great  price  of  the  na- 
tion's unity. 

But  you  are  restless,  that  I  detain  you  so  long 
upon  this  contracted  spot;  and  we  will  leave  it; 
taking  with  us,  however,  as  I  hope,  this  lesson;  that 


THE    TILLAGE    GREEN.  47 

he  who,  like  Captain  Goodrich  and  Chandler  Wil- 
liams, graciously  preserves  a  thing  of  mere  grace 
and  beauty,  may  well  expect  that,  in  due  time,  much 
of  the  grandly  and  nobly  useful  —  nay,  much  of 
sublime  human  action  —  may  cluster  around  it,  and 
mingle  their  memories  with  his  own. 


IV. 

REMINISCENT. 


The  memory  of  great  men  is  the  noblest  inheritance  of  their 
country. —  Blackwood's  Mag. 

You  have  been  very  patient  with  me  —  have  you 
not  ?  —  in  my  long-time  weakness  of  lingering  by  this 
old  park;  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  reward  you  with 
an  excursion  to  the  lake-side  or  mountain-top.  But 
I  pray  you  to  be  patient  yet  a  little  while,  as  we  take 
a  walk  among  the  pretty  village  houses,  with  their 
luxuriant  gardens,  and  court  yards  green  with 
shrubbery  —  a  delightful  summer  promenade.  To 
the  towns-people  the  older  of  these  dwellings  are  all 
pregnant  with  associations  of  the  past;  each  has  its 
story.  They  tell  you  —  these  good  citizens  —  as  you 
pass  along,  now  pleasant,  gossiping  histories;  now  low- 
hissed  scandals,  mouldy  and  soured,  which  ought  long 
ago  to  have  been  in  their  graves;  and  occasionally, 
you  hear  a  tale  of  open  or  proved  guilt  such  as 
you  would  rather  not  believe  could  have  its  dwelling 
m  such  innocent-looking  homes. 

You  hear  them  speak  names  which  call  up  no 
image  in  your  mind,  and  which  have  long  since 
ceased  to  receive  an  answer  in  these  streets.     They 


KEMIXI5CEXT.  49 

call  places  by  appellations  unfamiliar  to  your  ears. 
The  iron  horse  has  brought  new  wealth,  prosperity 
and  hope  to  the  thriving  town.  There  are  groceries 
where  there  used  to  be  gardens;  mansions  where 
there  used  to  be  meadows.  The  town  is  richer  and 
handsomer  than  it  was;  but  in  many  hearts,  for 
whom  the  old  quiet  used  to  be  full  of  joy  and  peace, 
the  new  wealth  and  crowd  and  noisy  prosperity  can- 
not but  sometimes  awaken  painful  longings.  In  the 
stillness  of  the  evening  —  when  the  shrill  cry  of  the 
steam- whistle  pierces  the  ear  and  goes  echoing  into 
the  breathless  distance,  like  the  shout  of  a  drunken 
man  on  the  solemn  midnight  —  you  listen  to  their 
touching  reminiscences  of  the  past,  and  are  moved 
by  laments  for  which  the  eager,  throbbing  heart  of 
common  life  has  no  chord  in  unison. 

But,  for  the  present,  we  will  pass  scandal  and 
retrospect,  except  so  far  as  the  latter  recalls  the 
memory  of  two  men  whose  wide-spread  fame  has 
become  identified  with  that  of  their  homes,  and 
whom  I  have  not  mentioned  with  others  who  have 
brought  honor  to  it  —  George  Nixon  Briggs  and  the 
Rev.  Dr.  John  Todd.  Whether  there  is  romance 
in  the  lives  of  either  of  them  or  not,  there  is  cer- 
tainly beauty  in  their  memory,  among  the  hills;  and 
beauty  that  is  seen  afar  off.  I  need  not  speak  in 
detail  of  either.  Their  memoirs,  written  with  rare 
ability,  have  been  long  published  to  the  world;  and 
I  only  desire  here,  by  a  few  reminiscences  of  their 
lives,  to  give  a  pleasant  tinting  to  our  scenery. 

And,  first,    of   the  much-loved  Governor  Briggs, 


50  TAGHCONIC. 

whose  beautiful  tomb  in  our  beautiful  cemetery  is 
the  spot  there  most  sought  by  the  visitor.  You  will 
observe  that,  conspicuous  upon  it,  is  a  large  white 
marble  cross.  He  loved  well  that  simple  symbol  of 
the  Christian  faith,  so  long  proscribed  in  New  Eng- 
land; and  it  was  his  influence  which  placed  it  on  the 
spire  of  the  village  Baptist  church  in  which  he 
worshipped.  But  I  shall  only  have  room  to  give  you 
a  few  reminiscences,  illustrating  one  of  the  qualities 
which  won  for  the  good  governor  so  universal  popu- 
larity, and  which  were  remarkable  as  mostly  referring 
to  incidents  which  occurred  within  the  compass  of 
a  few  days. 

In  the  spring  of  1851, 1  chanced  to  occupy,  one  day, 
a  seat  with  Governor  Briggs  in  th^  cars  of  the  Boston 
and  Albany  Railroad.  The  train  was  excessively 
crowded,  many  being  compelled  to  stand;  and  when 
we  reached  Westfield  there  entered  our  car,  at  the 
door  most  distant  from  us,  two  women  evidently 
much  wearied;  one  of  whom  carried  a  child.  None 
of  the  gentlemen  in  their  vicinity  seemed  to  notice 
their  condition;  but  Governor  Briggs  went  forward, 
invited  them  to  our  seat,  and  aided  the  one  with  a 
child  to  reach  it.  Instantly  many  seats  which  had 
not  been  vacated  for  the  weak  and  tired  women  were 
placed  at  the  service  of  the  Governor  of  Massachu- 
setts; but  he  remained  standing,  talking  kindly  to 
the  women  and  at  times  soothing  the  child  which 
had  been  made  restless  by  its  unaccustomed  position. 
There  was  nothing  in  this,  you  may  say,  more  than 
any   true-hearted  gentleman   ought  to   have   done. 


REMINISCENT.  61 

True;  but,  out  of  a  whole  car-full,  Governor  Briggs 
was  the  only  one  to  think  of  doing  it. 

We  passed  on,  and  as  we  approached  the  Brook- 
line  Bridge,  near  Boston,  found  that  a  collision  had 
taken  place  upon,  it,  blocking  the  passage  with  the 
wi'eck  of  two  trains,  which  hung  by  a  fearfully  pre- 
carious hold  over  the  water.  It  was  necessary  for 
the  passengers  to  clamber  over  and  through  the 
wreck,  to  reach  the  relief  train,  while  their  baggage 
was  sent  to  the  city  by  the  highway.  But,  among 
them,  was  an  old  Irish  woman,  one  of  those  wrong- 
headed,  as  well  as  ignorant,  people  who  can  never 
be  made  to  see  the  necessity  of  anything  out  of  the 
ordinary  course.  She  would  not  and  could  not  be 
separated  from  her  trunk  —  a  rude,  hair-covered 
chest.  Most  men  would  have  been  merely  amused 
by,  at  least  indifferent  to,  her  troubles;  but  ludi- 
crous as  was  her  grief,  it  was  piteous  and  real,  and 
such,  however  uncouth  and  groundless,  never  failed 
to  touch  the  heart  of  the  governor.  So  when,  hav- 
ing passed  from  one  to  another,  imploring  aid,  she 
came  to  him,  perceiving  at  once  the  uselessness  of 
attempting  to  reason  with  her,  he  quietly  took  hold 
of  one  end  of  her  trunk,  and  helped  her  carry  it  over 
the  tottering  wreck.  The  profuse  and  quaintly  ex- 
pressed thanks  of  the  woman,  and  her  still  more 
profuse  and  quaint  apologies  —  when,  with  all  her 
old-world  awe  of  dignitaries,  she  found  whom 
it  was  she  had  made  play  the  porter  for  her  —  were 
extremely  amusing.  But  there  were  few  who  wit- 
nessed the  scene  who  did  not  envy  Governor  Briggs 


62  TAGHCONIC. 

his  satisfaction  in  relieving  the  distress  of  even  so 
rude  and  uncouth  a  creature,  by  so  simple  a  piece  of 
thoughtful  kindness. 

Leaving  the  governor  at  Boston,  I  pursued  my  trip 
to  Martha's  Vineyard,  where  I  employed  a  man  to 
carry  me  from  point  to  point  in  search  of  certain 
varieties  of  clay  —  a  plain,  but  intelligent  and  quick- 
witted person,  of  much  shrewdness  and  criticism, 
which  he  applied  freely  to  public  men,  as  we  rode 
along.  But,  happening  to  learn  incidentally  that  I  was 
from  Pittsfield,  he  checked  his  horses  suddenly,  and 
exclaimed.  "Pittsfield;  why  Governor  Briggs  lives 
there  !  "  Somewhat  surprised  at  his  apparent  emo- 
tion, I  assented;  and  he  continued:  "  I  love  that  man; 
I  always  shall.  You  know  I  am  a  Democrat;  but  I 
always  put  in  my  vote  for  George  N.  Briggs.  He's 
got  a  heart  —  he  has  !  "  I  asked  him  how  he  found 
that  out;  and  he  replied,  that  once,  when  the  go- 
vernor was  reviewing  the  militia  at  New  Bedford, 
he  was  standing  directly  behind  him,  with  his  little 
daughter  in  his  arms.  The  child  begged  hard  to 
see  the  governor  and  the  troops,  while  the  crowd 
and  his  position  made  it  difficult  to  show  her  either 
to  her  satisfaction;  but  the  governor,  happening  to 
hear  her  entreaties,  turned  around,  took  her  in  his 
arms,  and  placing  her  before  him  on  his  horse,  showed 
her  the  soldiers,  and  then,  with  a  kiss,  returned  her 
to  her  father  —  a  pleased  child  and  a  grateful  father, 
you  may  well  believe.  "  I  have  loved  him  for  that," 
he  said,  "  ever  since;"  and  I  always  shall." 

At   a   later   time,    arriving   at   Pittsfield   with   a 


REMINISCENT.  53 

travelling  acquaintance  from  the  west,  he  asked  me, 
while  the  train  was  accidentally  delayed  for  a  few 
moments,  to  show  him  the  residence  of  Governor 
Briggs,  who  had  then  been  some  months  dead;  and  I 
took  him  to  a  point  where  he  obtained  a  view  of  the 
trees  which  conceal  it.  As  he  seemed  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  view,  I  remarked  carelessly,  "  So  you  are 
a  hero- worshipper."  "No,"  he  replied  with  evident 
emotion,  "  I  loved  the  man  —  I  had  good  reason  to  !  " 
I  had  no  time  to  learn  the  cause  of  this  feeling  — ■ 
whether  it  arose  from  some  of  those  minor  acts  of 
kindness,  such  as  I  have  related,  and  such  as  the 
governor  was  constantly  performing  —  or  from  some 
grander  benefits,  for  which  occasion  more  rarely 
presents  itself:  but  the  tone  and  manner  of  the 
speaker  were  more  earnest  than  would  probably 
have  been  caused  by  any  trivial  beneficence. 

How  many  friends  would  be  made  by  a  public  man 
whose  life  was  filled  with  acts  of  kindness  like  those 
I  have  mentioned,  and  governed  always  by  the  spirit 
manifested  in  them,  I  leave  you  to  judge. 

You  will  pass  the  Governor  Briggs  homestead  on 
your  way  to  Lebanon  or  Lake  Onota,  a  little  way 
beyond  the  Railroad  Station  in  Pittsfield  ;  a  hand- 
some mansion  with  fine  grounds,  and  rich  in  portraits, 
busts  and  relics  of  its  former  owner. 

The  parsonage,  once  the  home  of  Dr.  Todd,  is  not 
very  far  from  the  Park  ;  but  it  is  so  changed  from 
what  it  was  that  it  hardly  suggests  a  memory  of  him. 
When  I  first  came  to  Pittsfield,  the  first  thing  I 
looked    for    was    the    author   of  "  "The    Student's 


54  TAGHCONIC. 

Manual ;  "  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  singling  him  out 
from  a  number  of  distingui  figures  in  the  village 
streets.  He  was  the  homeliest  good-looking  man,  I 
ever  laid  eyes  on  ;  and,  withal  was  unmistakably 
marked  with  the  impress  of  thought  and  feeling. 
Mindful  of  certain  ridiculously  ineffectual  attempts  to 
mould  myself  upon  the  systematic  model  prescribed 
by  his  famous  book,  I  held  him  in  almost  grewsome 
awe  ;  and  it  was  a  great  consolation  to  find  after- 
wards that  he  was  not  nearly  so  formal  a  man  as  I 
dreaded,  but  one  who  did  an  immense  amount  of 
work,  simply  by  attacking  it  lovingly,  and  with  a 
loving  purpose.  You  may  recollect  that  he  became  an 
author,  so  that  he  might  add  to  his  means  of  support- 
ing an  aged  and  infirm  mother. 

He  was  the  most  contented  man  I  ever  knew. 
Livfng  comfortably  and  handsomely,  if  not  luxuri- 
ously ;  loving  and  loved,  not  only  by  his  own  people, 
but  by  the  whole  community  ;  glorying  in  and  en- 
joying the  natural  beauties  and  the  pleasant  fortunes 
of  his  home  ;  surrounded  by  a  social  circle  perfectly 
adapted  to  his  tastes  ;  honored  at  home,  and  famous 
abroad  ;  with  admirers  to  welcome  him,  wherever  he 
went  ;  with  the  means  and  the  taste  to  fill  up  his 
vacations  with  healthful  woodland  sports  :  Thus 
favored  of  fortune,  there  was  no  good  reason  for  dis- 
content, and  Dr.  Todd  was  not  the  man  to  seek  evil 
ones.  Of  sorrow  and  pain,  he,  like  other  men,  had 
more  than  enough ;  but  they  were  the  incidents  of  his 
manhood,  not  of  his  position  in  life.  They  might  be 
sources  of  grief  and  bodily  agony  ;  but  not  rightly 
of  discontent. 


REMINISCENT.  55 

Seeing  the  man  thus  living  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
living  beneficently,  and  in  the  tenderest  love  for  all  the 
world,  I  came  —  although  I  had  little  sympathy  for 
what  I  supposed  to  be  his  abstract  theological  opin- 
ions—  to  share  in  the  kindly  feeling  which  he  in. 
spired  in  all  about  me.  In  this  comfortably  Christian 
mood,  I  was  shocked  to  find  the  truculent  Theodore 
Tilton,  who  had  been  taken  somewhat  sharply  to  task 
by  the  good  doctor,  going  about  insisting  that  the 
following  lines,  by  Longfellow,  were  intended  as  his 
portrait  : 

"  The  parson,  too,  appeared,  a  man  austere. 

The  ingtinct  of  whose  nature  was  to  kill ; 
The  wrath  of  God  he  preached  from  year  to  year, 

And  read,  with  fervor,  "  Edwards  on  the  Will ;" 
His  favorite  pastime  was  to  slay  the  deer 

In  summer  on  some  Adirondac  hill. 
E'en  now,  while  walking  down  the  rural  lane, 

He  lopped  the  wayside  lilies  with  his  cane." 

"Good  lack  !  "  I  thought,  "can  this  be  the  man 
who,  to  our  uninspired  eyes,  seemed  the  very  soul  of 
gentleness  ?  who  seemed  to  have  a  child-like  love  for 
the  meanest  flower  that  blooms  ?  who  sorrowed 
for  a  loved  tree,  as  for  a  friend  ?  Where  had  that 
austerity  been  hid  for  so  many  years;  that  it  never 
scared  the  village  children  who  hung  upon  his  smile 
just  as  though  it  was  benignant.  Had  all  oi  us 
really  been,  for  near  forty  years,  ascribing  the 
kindest  of  humane  souls  to  one  whose  instinct  was  to 
kill,  and  who  did  not  even  spai-e  the  lilies  in  the 
Berkshire  lanes  —  if  any  grow  tHere;  which  I  very 
much  doubt,  unless  somebody,  like  Dr.  Todd,  has 


66  TAGHCONIC. 

planted  them  for  the  wicked  pleasure  of  cutting  them 
down.  There  really  seemed  to  be  a  sad  misconception 
on  somebody's  part  —  Mr.  Tilton's,  as  I  hoped,  since 
it  could  not  much  harm  him. 

But  let  us  see,  item  by  item,  wherein  the  likeness 
of  the  picture  to  the  Pittsfield  pastor  consists.  Item 
first:  The  scene  of  the  poem  is  laid  in  the  village 
of  Killingworth;  and  Dr.  Todd  was  born  in  the 
village  of  Killingworth  in  Connecticut,  but  was  never 
pastor  there.  Item  second  :  The  Killingworth  parson 
was  a  "  man  austere  ; "  there  the  likeness  fails  alto- 
gether —  Dr.  Todd  was  anything  but  that.  Item 
third  :  This  austere  parson  "  preached  the  wrath  of 
God  from  year  to  year  ;  "  and  I  suppose  that,  like 
thousands  of  other  ministers  of  religion,  the  world 
over.  Dr.  Todd  preached  upon  that  theme  as  often  as 
he  thought  it  to  be  his  duty  ;  which  was  certainly 
not  "  year  in  and  year  out " —  for  he  delighted  much 
more  in  preaching  the  Creator's  tender  mercies,  that 
are  over  all  his  works.  He  rested  firmly  upon  the 
orthodox  Congregational  creed  —  the  faith  of  his 
fathers  —  and  died  steadfast  in  it ;  but  he  loved  best 
to  repose  upon  its  sunny  side  ;  and,  ever,  as  his 
religion  ripened  with  his  mellowing  years,  his  charity 
grew  broader,  and  his  appreciation  of  God's  loving 
kindness  keener  and  deeper.  Item  fourth  :  The 
poet's  objectionable  preacher  read  with  fervor  "  Ed- 
wards on  the  Will:  "  Dr.  Todd  was  at  one  time  pastor 
of  a  church  in  Northampton  which  was  an  off-shoot 
of  that  which  in  1750,  by  a  majority  of  one  hundred 
and  eighty,  refused  utterly  to  have  the  stern  Calvin- 


BEMIinSCENT.  67 

istic  moralist  any  longer  to  be  their  servant — or,  as  he 
■would  have  had  it,  their  master  —  in  the  Lord.  How- 
ever, the  children  had  long  ago  repented  of  the  sin 
of  their  fathers  —  the  offending  minister  having  risen 
to  a  great  height  in  the  esteem  of  his  co-religionists. 
And  so,  when  they  sent  out  a  colony  to  found  a  new 
church,  they  called  it  "  The  Edwards  ; "  and  Dr. 
Todd,  who  became  its  first  minister,  gave  the  same 
name  to  his  first-born  son.  Doubtless  he  held  his 
celebrated  predecessor  in  reverence ;  but  I  had  it  from 
his  own  li^js  that  he  deemed,  not  only  the  much  ob- 
jurgated and  much-admired  Treatise  on  the  Freedom 
of  the  Will,  but  all  metaphysical  theology  whatever, 
unprofitable  reading,  while  we  have  the  Bible,  and 
the  great  book  of  Man  and  Nature  is  spread  wide- 
open  at  its  less  abstruse  pages.  I  do  not  believe  that 
he  read  a  page  of  "Edwards  on  the  Will,"  with  fervor 
or  otherwise,  after  he  left  the  Theological  Seminary. 
Item  fifth  :  The  favorite  pastime  of  the  Killing- 
worth  Cruelty  was  to  slay  the  deer  in  summer,  out  in 
the  Adirondack  country.  And  so  did  Dr.  Todd  love 
to  hunt  the  deer  there,  and  elsewhere  ;  as  hundreds 
of  very  worthy  people  still  do.  The  pleasures  of  the 
chase  would  bring  little  but  pain  to  myself  ;  and  the 
cold-blooded  ruthlessness  with  which  Kingsley  in  his 
"  Idylls  "  gloats  over  the  skillful  "  killing  "  of  trout 
ruins  half  my  pleasure  in  that  otherwise  charming 
book.  But  that,  I  take  to  be  a  constitutional  pecu- 
liarity ;  and  it  would  be  absurd  in  the  extreme  for  me, 
on  the  strength  of  it,  to  assume  a^  virtue  above  that 
of  Canon  Kingsley,  Isaack  Walton,  Shakespeare,  Adi- 


58  TAGHCONIC. 

rondack  Murray,  and  a  host  of  other  renowned  trout- 
killers  and  deer-slayers,  lay  and  clerical. 

But,  to  be  fair,  I  suppose  that  the  gist  of  Mr.  Long- 
fellow's accusation,  if  it  be  an  accusation,  lies  in  the 
innuendo  —  "  in  summer  "  —  intending  thereby  that 
the  reverend  defendant  slew  the  deer,  out  of  season, 
wantonly,  and  contrary  to  the  recognized  although 
unwritten  laws  of  venery.  And  Dr.  Todd  did  pursue 
the  chase  on  the  Adirondack  hills  in  summer.  He 
could  not  well  have  done  so  at  any  other  season  ;  but 
he  obeyed  the  law  in  its  spirit,  if  he  broke  it  to  the 
letter  :  for  he  scrupulously  refrained,  however  much 
in  need  of  venison,  from  firing  upon  a  fawn  or  a  nurs- 
ing doe,  and  never  at  any  season  killed  for  the 
pleasure  of  killing,  but  rather  with  pity  for  the  pain 
inflicted. 

There  seem  to  be  some  wide  divergences  between 
Mr.  Longfellow's  portrait,  and  its  assumed  original ; 
but  there  is  sufficient  vraisemblance  to  justify  the  as- 
sertion that  Dr.  Todd  was  the  clergyman  whom  the 
poet  had  in  his  mind,  when  he  wrote  "  The  Birds  of 
Killingworth  ;"  and  it  seems  equally  certain  that  he 
was  misled  by  the  reports  of  certain  jealous  and 
rascally  Adirondack  guides  —  as  is  very  well  shown 
by  Dr.  Todd's  biographer.  And  it  is  to  be  mourned 
that  the  most  amiable  and  gentle  of  our  great  poets  — 
one  to  whom  the  love  of  all  English-speaking  people 
gives  such  power  of  reproof  and  condemnation  — 
should  have  allowed  himself  to  be  led  into  injustice  by 
such  base  and  vulgar  slanderers.  I  will  not  believe 
that  he  was  the  more  readily  induced  to  give  them 


REMINISCENT.  59 

credence  by  the  memory  of  Dr.  Todd's  old  polemical 
pastorate  —  a  half  a  century  ago  —  in  Groton.  The 
odiuni  theologicum  could  hardly  rankle  so  long  as 
that  in  the  celestial  mind  of  the  author  of  so  much 
noble  and  manly  verse.  But  well  says  old  Selden, 
speaking  of  judges  who  hold  the  power  of  life  and 
death  :  "  Let  him  who  hath  a  dead  hand  take  heed 
how  he  strikes." 

Here  have  I  been  spending  this  time  which  w^e 
might  have  given  to  pleasant  reminiscences  of  Pitts- 
field's  great  pastor  in  a  probably  needless  defence  of 
him  against  a  random  and  unworthy  charge  :  but 
perhaps  I  have  been  able  in  this  way,  as  well  as 
another,  to  show  how  he  appeared  to  one  out  of  his 
own  theological  pale.  How  he  looked  to  one  of  his 
own  household,  both  in  the  faith  and  according  to  the 
flesh,  is  graphically  painted  in  the  full  and  frank 
biography  published  by  his  son. 


V. 
PONTOOSXJC  LAKE. 


The  memory  of  one  particular  lioui 

Dotli  here  rise  up  against  me. —  Wordsworth. 

Oh,  thou  most  rare  day  in  June,  whose  rain  of 
golden  moments  fell  so  preciously  by  the  green 
borders  of  Pontoosuc;  there  shall  be  few  like  thee 
in  the  gladdest  summer  month  ! 

With  L.  and  two  other  friends  from  the  dear 
tri-mountain  city,  and  with  one  laughing  daughter  of 
the  Berkshire  soil,  I  went  that  faultless  morning,  to 
pass  the  "  lee  long  summer  day  "by  the  clear  waters 
of  our  favorite  lake  :  the  popular  favorite,  although, 
fair  as  it  is,  I  confess  that  it  has  a  rival  in  my  own 
esteem.  But  this  is  lovely  enough  to  satisfy  any 
reasonable  craving.  And  so  is  the  approach  which 
brings  us  to  it.  Passing  the  neat  and  tasteful  fac- 
tory village,  whose  busy  wheels  have  been  turned  by 
the  waters  of  the  lake  for  more  than  half  a  century, 
you  enter  a  piece  of  winding,  willow-shaded  road^  on 
the  left  of  which  the  ground  descends  abruptly  to  the 
rocky  bed  of  the  Housatonic  river,  which  issues  from 
the  lake  a  few  rods  above.  Just  below,  it  falls  in  a 
cataract,  whose  worst   fault  is  that  it  is    artificial. 


PONTOOSUC  LAKE.  61 

Alas,  on  this  whole  romantic  stream,  from  the 
mountains  of  New  Ashf ord  to  The  Sound,  there  is  not 
one  waterfall  which  has  not  been  disturbed  by  art. 
But  water,  and  especially  dashing,  sparkling,  foaming 
water,  is  always  beautiful,  and  this  broad,  smooth 
sheet  of  crystal,  rolling  over  its  table  of  massive 
marble,  to  be  broken  into  infinite  sparkling  drops 
thirty  feet  below,  is  worth  at  least  a  passing  glance. 
If  you  so  honor  it,  you  will  observe  that  the  smooth 
water,  at  frequent  intervals  in  its  fall  is  bent,  across 
its  whole  width,  into  rippling  curves  parallel  to  its 
upper  surface.  The  cause  is  simple  enough,  but  it 
took  us,  bright  ones,  a  long  while  to  hit  upon  it  that 
June  morning.  No,  I  shall  not  tell  it  here;  for  it  is 
the  prescriptive  privilege  of  the  Berkshire  friend 
who  first  drives  you  that  way,  to  propound  the  prob- 
lem for  your  bewilderment. 

Before  you  have  solved  it,  a  slight  rise  in  the  road 
will  bring  in  view  the  blue  surface  of  the  lake,  in 
glassy  stillness  or  sparkling  in  broken  light,  dotted 
only  with  two  emerald  islets.  Mere  dots,  now  :  in 
that  elder  day,  before  the  dam-builders  —  observe 
that,  as  I  spell  it,  dam  is  a  noun  substantive  —  before 
the  dam-builders  had  raised  the  surface  of  the  lake 
and  sj)oiled  some  of  its  prettiest  outlines,  these  islets 
were  quite  conspicuous  islands;  the  commodious  re- 
sort of  frequent  jolly  chowder-parties.  At  a  still 
earlier  day,  as  you  will  see  by  and  by,  they  had  a  story. 

You  catch  your  first  glimpse  of  the  water  between 
gentle  declivities  covered  by  a  fine  growth  of  pine, 
with,  here  and  there  in  the  intermediate  opening,  an 
6 


^2  TAGHCONIC. 

elm,  a  hemlock  or  a  beech.  As  you  pass  through 
these  woody  portals  —  or  better,  if  you  stand  in  the 
grove  on  the  southern  bank  —  the  view  expands. 
The  farther  shores  rise  gradually  to  hills;  to  moun- 
tains. Not  far  off,  in  the  west,  they  terminate  in 
the  ever-graceful  Taghconic  domes;  every  summit 
of  which,  in  a  calm  clear  day,  is  mirrored  by  the  un- 
ruffled lake.  You  should  see  them  on  such  a  day  in 
their  brave  June  verdure,  or  in  their  October 
splendors,  every  height,  every  hue,  glowing  double, 
hill  and  shadow,  as  perfectly  as  ever  Wordsworth's 
swan. 

On  the  north,  the  long  valley,  a  little  broken  by 
the  bold,  fair  hills  of  Lanesboro',  stretches  away  until 
it  finds  its  barrier  in  that  superb  culmination  of  so 
many  Berkshire  landscapes,  grand  and  graceful 
Greylock. 

You  would  pause,  as  we  did,  to  admire  the  almost 
artistic  arrangement  of  the  stately  grove  of  pines, 
the  single  elms,  and  beeches,  and  the  twin  hemlocks 
scattered  along  the  lawn-like  slope  between  the  road 
and  the  lakeside  ;  but  I  know  not  how  much  of  all 
these  the  encroaching  waters  will  leave  for  the  de- 
lectation of  future  visitors.  There  was  a  very 
joyous  and  soothing  beauty  in  the  scene  as,  driving 
slowly  along,  with  the  gently  rippling  waters  upon 
our  left  and  the  cool  evergreen  grove  on  our  right, 
we  stopped  here  and  there;  now  to  gather  splendid 
bouquets  of  the  rich  red  columbine,  which  then  grew 
here  in  profusion,  and  now  to  try,  for  the  most  part 
in  vail),  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  birds,  who  from 


PONTOOSUC  LAKE.  63 

their  hiding  places,  joined  with  most  melodious 
energy  in  the  carolings  of  M.  and  F. 

Dismissing  our  carriage  at  the  northern  end  of  the 
lake,  we  sauntered  back,  lingering  by  the  pebbly- 
shore,  where  the  dashing  of  the  wavelets  reminded 
us  all  of  the  great  billows  that  beat  upon  the  Atlantic 
beach  one  other  summer  day.  It  was  strange  this 
mimicry  of  the  great  sea  by  the  little  mountain  loch. 
F.  said  she  had  once  been  startled  in  the  same  way 
by  recognizing  the  tones  of  a  great  orator  in  the 
lispings  of  his  infant  grand-child.  Such  are  the 
trifles  of  which  talk  is  made  on  summer  excursions. 

Then  we  sat  awhile  under  the  great  pines,  and  let 
that  mischief  of  a  Grace  —  she  of  the  Berkshire 
Hills  —  inveigle  every  one  of  us  into  a  promise  to 
read  there,  on  our  return,  verses  in  their  honor,  com- 
posed during  the  day.  I  confess  that  I  was,  for 
a  reason  which  will  appear  by  and  by,  the  first  to 
assent  to  this  nonsense.  But,  having  assented  to  it, 
our  wisdom  recovered  itself,  and  espying  across  the 
lake,  an  inviting  grove  familiar  to  all  our  lovers  of 
picnic,  we  determined  to  make  it  our  camping  ground 
for  the  day.  I  have  since  seen  a  fanciful  array  of 
gaily  bannered  barges  moving  thither  in  long  pro- 
cession bearing  the  semblance,  at  least,  of  kings  and 
queens,  cavaliers  and  court  ladies,  priests  and  bandits, 
harlequins  and  columbines,  monks  and  outlaws, 
clowns,  savages,  fairies  and  all  the  masquerading 
fraternity,  while  pealing  music  echoed  among  the 
astonished  hills,  and  the  dwellers  omthe  farther  shore 
wondered  what  on  earth  was  coming  now. 


64  TAGHCONIC. 

In  our  time  the  lake  fleet  was  somewhat  more 
scanty  ;  but,  by  the  courtesy  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
neighboring  factory,  we  were  enabled  to  reach  the 
haven  where  we  would  be  in  a  luxurious  boat,  once  the 
property  of  Audubon  who  had  used  it  in  his  studies  of 
the  rich  ornithology  of  the  Berkshire  lakes.  We  were 
soon  quite  at  home  in  a  nice  nook  of  the  grove,  where, 
by  the  aid  of  L's  flute,  F's  guitar,  the  fun  of  the 
madcap  Grace,  a  book  or  two  of  poetry,  and  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  cold  chicken  and  other  "  creature  com- 
forts," we  passed  hours  which  are  not  lightly  to  be 
forgotten  in  lives  which  have  few  such. 

Then,  too,  there  were  rough  rambles,  to  the  grievous 
detrijuent  of  Grace's  flimsy  drapery  ;  although,  on  my 
soul,  I  believe  the  gypsy  tore  that  gown  with  malice 
prepense,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  bringing  an  unhappy 
victim  within  range  of  her  wit.  At  any  rate  he  came, 
and,  as  she  was  repairing  damages  with  an  infinitude 
of  pains  and  pins,  impertinently  asked  what  she  was 
about  ?  "  Collecting  my  rents,  stupid  !  "  And  as 
Grace  was  the  owner  of  houses  and  lands  in  quantities, 
we  all  laughed.     It  is  so  easy  to  be  witty  at  picnics. 

"  And  to  laugh  at  the  wit  of  an  heiress  any  where," 
do  I  hear  you  add  ?  Well,  perhaps,  Monsieur  Le  Sauer; 
but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  our  lake-side  merri- 
ment. You  haven't  an  idea  what  a  balm  there  is  in 
woodland  odors.  I  half  believe  a  day  or  two  in  these 
Berkshire  woods  would  take  some  of  the  grimness  out 
of  even  your  visage.  The  experiment  is  worth  trying, 
for  the  curiosity  of  the  thing,  if  for  nothing  more. 
I  wonder  how  you  would  look  with  a  gleam  of  real 


PONTOOSUC  LAKE.  65 

genuine  happiness  in  your  eye.  So  come  right  along, 
old  fellow,  and  we'll  take  you  all  about :  make  a  new 
man  of  you  as  like  as  not. 

There  are  fanciful  legends  about  this  Pontoosuc  lake; 
among  them  an  old  tale  that  a  shadowy  bark  with  a 
shadowy  boatman  is  often  seen  to  flit  over  its  midnight 
waters,  as  if  in  quest  of  that  which  it  is  doomed  never 
to  find.  What  it  is  this  restless  phantom  seeks,  whether 
lost  love  or  hidden  foe,  I  do  not  know  that  legends  tell. 
I  have  often  passed  that  way  at  the  accredited  witch- 
mg  hour  :  sometimes  when  the  pale  moon  shed  a  very 
ghostly  light  upon  the  waters,  while  the  shrieks, 
screams  and  bowlings  that  hurtled  discordant  upon 
the  air,  defied  all  my  'ologies  to  assign  them  to  any 
known  beast,  bird  or  reptile  ;  sometimes  when  only 
the  lurid  lightnings  fitfully  lit  up  the  night,  and  shim- 
mered a  thin  and  sulphurous  blue  from  shore  to  shore ; 
sometimes  when  fisher's  skiffs,  a  red  torch  glowing  at 
every  prow,  looked  sufiiciently  infernal  ;  but  neither 
in  ghostly  moonlight,  by  lurid  flash,  or  by  glare  of 
torch,  can  I  rightly  say  that  I  ever  caught  sight  of 
his  flitting  ghostship. 

"  You  never  did  !  well  that  shows  how  much  of 
a  seer  you  are.  Now,  that  ghost's  as  real  as  — 
as  real  as  anything.     Why  there  are  two  of  them." 

It  was  that  saucy  Grace  who  said  this,  when  she 
read  my  humiliating  confession.  The  simple  fact  is 
that  Grace  belongs  to  one  of  the  old  story-telling 
Berkshire  families.  One  of  her  ancestors  was  prime 
chum  to  Hendrick  Aupaumut,  tr edition-keep er-in- 
chief  to  the  Mohegan  nation,  almost  two  hundred 


66  TAGHCONIC. 

years  ago ;  and  that  veracious  chronicler  indoctrinated 
him  in  all  the  legendary  lore  of  which  he  was  master. 
Of  course  his  pretty  descendant  has  a  tale  to  fit 
every  romantic  scene  among  her  well-loved  hills.  I 
do  not  know  that  any  of  her  story-telling  ancestry 
were  ever  guilty  of  fathering  the  wild  children  of 
their  imagination  upon  old  Aupaumut.  If  they  did, 
nobody  suspected  them  of  it;  for  they  were  all 
"  honorable  men,"  or  at  least  were  always  so  desig- 
nated in  the  political  columns  of  the  county  news- 
papers. I  have,  however,  sometimes  suspected  that 
their  quick-witted  daughter,  rather  than  let  any 
favorite  spot  go  unstoried,  would  on  the  instant  in- 
vent a  tale  to  meet  its  exigences;  and  if  a  ghost  were 
needed  would  e'en  haunt  it  herself.  I  have  gleaned 
from  her  a  good  deal  of  the  material  for  the  Indian 
legends  of  this  volume;  but  in  order  to  secure  the 
accurate  truthfulness,  which,  as  you  perceive,  charac- 
terizes them,  I  have  been  obliged  to  correct  her 
vivacious  narration  by  the  aid  of  graver  authorities; 
frequently  summoning  Hendrick  Aupaumut  from 
the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds  for  that  purpose,  and 
sometimes  consulting  the  historical  collections  of 
Dry-as-Dust  LL.D. 

In  most  cases  I  have  thus  scrutinized  her  stories 
so  closely  as  to  leave  little  doubt  of  their  perfect 
truth;  but  in  this  Pontoosuc  affair,  I  shall  devolve 
that  task  upon  the  reader,  and  tell  the  tale  just  as  it 
was  told  to  me. 


PONTOOSTJC  LAKE.  67 


Shoon-keek-Moon-keek. 

"  She  loved  her  cousin  ;  such  a  love  was  deemed 
Bj  the  morality  of  these  stern  tribes 
Incestuous." —  Bryant. 

In  the  first  place  you  must  know  that  Pontoosuo 
was  not  the  aboriginal  name  of  the  lake  now  so 
called.  That  is  a  corruption  of  the  Mohegan  word 
Poontoosuck  —  "a  field  for  the  winter  deer,"  by 
which  the  tribe  called  all  the  Pittsfield  valley^  indi- 
cating that  it  was  their  abundant  hunting  ground. 
When  the  factory  of  which  I  have  spoken  was  built, 
it  received  the  name,  simplified  for  the  sake  of 
convenience,  and  it  was  gradually  extended  to  the 
lake  itself. 

The  Mohegans,  who  loved  the  lake  well,  called  it 
Shoon-keek-Moon-keek.  Why  they  did  so,  you  will 
find  out  if  you  listen  with  a  little  better  attention 
than  you  gave  those  phantom  voices  across  the  water: 
loons,  herons,  owls  and  foxes,  I  haven't  a  doubt. 

Although  at  certain  well-defined  seasons  of  the 
year,  this  valley,  in  the  old  Mohegan  times,  used  to 
be  all  alive  with  hunters  and  trappers,  its  permanent 
population  was  exceeding  scant.  The  Indians  did 
not  greatly  affect  solitary  wigwams,  but  the  little 
clusters  which  passed  with  them  for  villages  were 
small  indeed;  and  it  was  one  of  the  smallest  which 
stood  in  the  sunny  recess  among  the  hills,  seventy 
or  eighty  rods  below  the  lake  and  on  the  west  side 
of  the  outlet.  You  can  hardly  mistake  the  spot. 
They  found  some  ghastly  relics  of  the  aboriginal 


68  TAGHCONIC. 

owners  not  far  from  the  site  of  their  village,  not 
many  years  ago. 

The  great  men  of  this  little  community  were  two 
brothers,  probably  not  very  conspicuous  in  Mohegan 
annals,  for  their  very  names  are  forgotten  now;  and 
all  else  concerning  them  except  this  faint  legend.  It 
happened  one  bright  day  in  June,  three  hundred 
years  ago,  that  to  one  of  these  brothers  was  born  a 
son,  and  to  the  other  a  daughter;  the  prettiest  little 
papooses  that  ever  came  to  light  in  all  that  region. 
Their  names,  Shoon-keek  for  the  boy.  Moon-keek  for 
the  girl,  seem  to  have  signified  their  parent's  ap- 
preciation of  that  pleasant  fact,  although  I  cannot 
give  you  a  literal  translation  of  the  words. 

One  shudders  to  think  of  the  barbarous  physical 
and  moral  training  those  young  things  underwent. 
No  boarding  school  miss  ever  had  her  back  straight- 
ened by  such  heroic  processes  as  gave  uprightness  to 
the  children  of  the  woods,  and  I  dare  say  the  mental 
and  moral  processes  were  equally  rude  and  effective. 
The  motto  was  "kill  or  cure;  "  the  weaklings  always 
gave  in,  before  they  made  much  trouble  in  the 
world.  As  the  cousins  did  not  die,  the  presumption 
is  that  they  graduated,  perfect  specimens  of  the 
Indian  youth  and  maiden:  indeed  the  tradition  hints 
as  much. 

The  other  result  might  have  been  better  for  them; 
but  no  such  gloomy  premonition  overshadowed  their 

joyous  childhood. 

"  The  morning  of  our  days 
Is  like  the  lark  that  soars  to  heaven,  all  happiness  and  praise  ; 
The  earth  is  full  of  beauty,  rose  bloom  is  on  the  sky, 
And  hope  can  never  fail  us,  and  love  can  never  die." 


SHOON-KEEK-MOOX-KEEK.  69 

And  so  Shoon-keek  and  Moon-keek  revelled  to- 
gether in  all  the  joys  of  childhood;  gathered  for  each 
other  the  arbutus  in  spring,  the  laurel  in  summer, 
and  all  pretty  wild  flowers  in  all  flowery  months  ; 
together  filled  their  birchen  baskets  with  the  luscious 
berries  of  the- woods,  together  chased  birds  or  but- 
terflies; and  as  they  grew  older  fished  on  the  lake 
in  the  same  birch  canoe. 

It  was  very  pleasant  for  the  fathers  to  see  the 
children  thus  absorbed  in  each  other  —  just  brother 
and  sister,  as  it  were  :  which,  considering  the  stern 
moral  law,  I  have  quoted  above  from  Bryant's  famous 
poem,  seems  to  me  much  like  playing  with  edge  tools  ; 
cousins  are  so  liable  to  discover  that  they  are  only 
cousins.  Not  that  any  consciousness  of  wrong 
disturbed  the  pure  happiness  of  Shoon-keek  and 
Moon-keek:  even  when  they  were  both  thrown  into 
consternation  by  the  matrimonial  advances  made  by 
divers  young  men  of  the  tribe  to  the  maiden,  they 
did  not  suspect  the  nature  of  their  common  grief. 
Little  the  simple  ones  deemed  that  the  affection  which, 
in  those  pleasant  places,  had  grown  up  as  sweetly  and 
naturally  as  the  may-flower  and  the  violet  mingle 
their  perfumes,  was  unholy. 

So  natural  and  so  innocent  was  their  intercourse 
that,  not  until  the  keen  eye  of  jealousy  discovered 
and  its  subtle  tongue  pointed  it  out,  did  the  fathers 
of  these  poor  children  suspect  the  love,  which  theji 
called  guilty;  nay,  not  till  the  voice  of  j^arental 
authority  had  forbidden  their  precious  meetings  did 


70  TAGHCONIC. 

the  lovers  learn  the  nature  and  ardor  of  their  own 
passion. 

Parental  authority  had  some  rather  effective  means 
of  asserting  itself  among  our  predecessors  in  this 
valley.  But  not  for  that  did  the  cousins  consent  to 
forego  each  other.  The  means  of  evading  parental 
oversight  were  also  abundant  in  those  thick-wooded 
days.  There  were  hidden  recesses  in  the  islands 
of  the  lake,  in  its  sedgy  shores,  in  its  inlets  and  out- 
lets, all  very  tempting  to  opposed  lovers  who  could 
both  speed  the  light'  canoe.  Then,  as  now,  at  night 
as  well  as  by  day,  the  surface  of  the  lake  was  con- 
stantly dotted  by  the  little  skiffs  of  the  fishermen  — 
and  iisherwomen.  And  then  as  nov/,  the  busy  plyers 
of  the  hook  and  line  little  noted  at  night  if  one  or 
another  skiff,  dipping  its  torch  quietly  in  the  wave, 
suddenly  darted  into  some  narrow  hiding  place.  But 
then  it  unfortunately  happens  that  all  who  go  down 
upon  the  lake  in  little  boats  are  not  busy  plyers  of 
the  hook  and  line,  but  sometimes,  rather,  busy-bodies 
in  other  men's  matters :  a  sort  of  people,  who,  though 
specifically  classed  by  Holy  Writ  among  the  wicked, 
persist  in  existing  in  all  ages.  And  they  always 
make  mischief  wherever  you  find  them.  Nockawando 
was  the  mischief-maker  on  Pontoosuc  Lake  three 
hundred  years  ago;  and  as  he  was,  not  only  a  prying 
busybody,  but  also  a  jealous  lover  of  the  pretty 
Moon-keek,  you  may  be  sure  he  was  not  long  in 
making  known  to  her  father  the  secret  of  her  clan- 
destine nocturnal  meetings  with  her  forbidden  cousin: 
and  a  pretty  lecture  the  old  fellow  read  her  ;  with  a 


SHOON-KEEK-MOOX-KEEK.  71 

promise  of  such  further  measures  as  on  examination 
he  might  find  the  case  to  demand. 

My  dear  young  lady  reader:  that  threat  suggested 
something  much  more  serious  than  being  locked  up 
in  your  own  room,  even  on  a  meagre  diet  of  bread 
and  water.  But,  if  love  laughs  at  locksmiths,  what 
could  be  expected  of  a  flimsy  wigwam,  without  so 
much  as  a  latch  to  rattle  or  a  hinge  to  creak,  in  the 
way  of  restraining  a  brave  girl's  wayward  fancies  ? 
The  lovers  had  planned  a  meeting  that  very  night 
upon  the  island  in  the  lake;  and  they  had  it.  They 
had  before  determined  to  fly  from  Mohegan-land 
and  ask  adoption  into  some  eastern  tribe  whose 
marriage  code  was  less  absurd  than  their  own ;  pre- 
cisely as  an  Englishman,  resolved  to  marry  his 
deceased  wife's  sister  anyhow,  just  takes  her  across 
the  Atlantic.  The  idea  was  a*  capital  one;  and, 
under  the  pressure  of  Xockawando's  terrible  dis- 
covery, they  determined  to  carry  it  out  the  very  next 
night.  They  should  have  started  right  off  on  the 
instant.  I  wish  they  had,  even  if  the  lake  had  waited 
to  this  day  for  a  story  and  a  name.  But,  even  with 
the  primitive  wardrobe  and  diet  which  prevailed 
three  centuries  ago  in  Mohegan-land,  some  little  pre- 
paration seems  to  have  been  needful.  And,  then, 
Moon-keek's  stern  parent  had  intimated  that  he 
would  wait  the  return  of  his  brother  from  Esqua- 
tuck,  before  proceeding  to  extreme  measures. 

But  delays  are  dangerous,  as  even  our  sanguine 
lovers  seem  to  have  been  aware;  for  they  made  sad 
provision  for  the  possibility  of  failure.     They  had 


12  TAGHCONIC. 

not  faith  enough  in  the  moral  code  of  their  nation, 
to  make  themselves  mangled  martyrs  to  it,  like 
Bryant's  monumental  maiden,  by  jumping  down  a 
five  hundred  feet  precipice  into  a  hugh  pile  of 
jagged  and  splintered  flint  rocks.  They  declined 
martyrdom  singly,  even  in  the  milder  form  suggested 
by  the  deep  waters  of  the  lake.  But,  however  re- 
bellious against  the  more  austere  deities  of  their 
nation,  they  were  sworn  subjects  of  whatever  imp 
in  their  mythology  played  the  role  of  Cupid. 

Before  leaving  the  island,  they,  therefore,  solemnly 
pledged  themselves,  that,  if  any  fate  should  interpose 
to  prevent  their  flight,  and  threaten  to  separate 
them  forever,  they  would  meet  beneath  the  cool 
waters,  and  part  no  more.  It  was  a  fearful  vow; 
and  yet  lovers,  educated  in  a  more  enlightened  faith, 
have  been  known  to  make,  and  faithfully  perform, 
essentially  the  same.  There  was  nothing  in  it,  save 
the  cousinly  relation  of  the  parties,  that  was  re- 
pugnant to  the  superstitions  of  the  forest.  Yet  hear 
what  befell  those  who  preferred  the  worship)  of  the 
little  god,  Cupid,  whatever  may  have  been  his  Mo- 
hegan  name,  to  the  behest  of  the  Great  Manitou. 

You  will  have  anticipated  that  fatal  disaster  befell 
the  cousins  in  their  proposed  flight:  fatal  indeed 
it  was,  and  fearful;  but  it  may  be  briefly  told. 
Shoon-keek,  gliding  stealthily  across  the  waters  to 
his  island  rendezvous,  died  by  a  treacherous  arrow 
from  the  bow  of  Nockawando ;  and  his  body,  pitching 
from  the  canoe,  sank  with  strange  swiftness.  No 
breath  of  life,  no  spark  of  soul,  lingered  to  buoy  it 


SHOOX-KEEK-MOOX-KEEK.  73 

for  an  instant;  but  the  shadowy  semblance  of  him 
who  had  sat  there,  kept  his  seat,  and  the  skiff  sped 
on,  faster  than  when  driven  by  mortal  arms  — 
towards  the  island,  past  the  island,  into  the  dim  night. 

The  expectant  maiden  discerned  it  as  it  passed, 
and  the  piteous  tone  in  which  she  shrieked  the  name 
of  her  lover  pierced  the  heart  even  of  I^ockawando 
who  was  approaching  the  point  upon  which  she 
stood.  The  response  came  back  as  piteously,  from 
afar,  "  Moon-keek  !  "  The  lover  —  now  a  phantom, 
could  then  hear  and  answer  the  loved  voice;  but, 
though  his  arm  seemed  to  drive  on  the  skiff,  another 
power  inexorably  guided  its  course. 

It  needed  but  this,  and  the  sight  of  the  murderer,  to 
tell  the  frantic  girl  all  that  had  happened.  Nothing 
remained  but  to  fulfil  her  vow.  Springing  into  her 
canoe,  she  darted  it  madly  from  the  shore,  singing  a 
wild  and  plaintive  death-song.  Nockawando  hastened 
to  pursue  ;  but,  as  he  drew  near,  the  song  ceased  and 
such  a  supernatural  silence  prevailed  that,  in  the  terror 
of  a  guilty  soul,  he  would  have  fled;  but  flight  was 
no  longer  possible.  He  came  nearer  still:  the  maiden, 
like  her  lover,  was  a  shade.  What  more  he  saw  or 
heard,  was  never  known,  except  that,  as  he  looked 
the  canoe  of  Moon-keek,  without  apparent  motion, 
was  afar  off.  He  returned  to  the  village,  a  gibbering 
idiot.  Neither  hunting-ground  or  war-path  ever  knew 
him  more.  The  dusky  maidens  gazed  upon  him, 
shuddering  —  but  pitiful  ;  and  he  fled  from  them  as 
from  some  remembered  horror.  The  tribes-men  dealt 
1 


74  TAGHCONIC. 

cKaritably  with  him  as  with  one  stricken  of  hoaven; 
but  he  went  ever  feebly  moaning  strange  syllables: 
the  wise  men  said,  they  were  the  parting  words  of  the 
phantom  maiden. 

Death  at  last-  came  to  his  relief.  But  not  so  ended 
the  punishment  of  those  who  loved  not  wisely  ;  that 
is,  not  according  to  the  traditions  of  their  people.  K 
legends  do  not  lie,  it  was  decreed  of  Manitou,  that 
so  long  as  the  lake  shall  dash  its  waves,  so  long  shall 
their  restless  shades  flit  over  them  with  responsive 
but  bewildering  and  illusive  call  and  response,  while, 
led  by  the  hope  that  maketh  the  heart  sick,  they 
nightly  seek  that  meeting,  no  more  to  part,  to  which 
they  impiously  pledged  themselves  in  the  madness 
of  unlawful  love. 

With  rightly  attuned  ears,  you  may,  on  almost 
any  night  when  the  lake  is  not  frozen,  hear  those 
piteously  plaintive  voices,  calling  to  each  other  from 
ever-changing  points,  and  if  you  are  a  right  ghost- 
seer  —  a  sort  of  gifted  folk  much  more  rare  than 
they  used  to  be  —  you  may  sometimes  faintly  discern 
a  shadowy  canoe  flitting,  spectre-like,  over  the  waters; 
vanishing  here,  appearing  there,  in  an  altogether 
supernatural  way:  like  an  aboriginal  Flying  Dutch- 
man in  miniature.  Such  are  the  phantoms  of  the 
Mohegan's  Shoon-keek-Moon-keek,  and  our  Pon- 
toosuc. 

"  If  I  were  rich  enough,  I  would  have  that  cruel 
lake  drained,"  cried  F.,  her  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Don't,"  said  the  laughing  story-teller,  "  It  would 
ruin  some  of  the  finest  water-pt)wer  in  the  county." 


SHOON-KEEK-MOON-KEEK.  15 

And  yet  one  could  see  with  half  an  eye,  that  she  was 
proud  to  have  had  one  sympathetic  auditor. 

"And  now,"  she  continued,  "now  for  the  pine 
grove  and  our  improvisings  !  " 

Oddly  enough  no  one  owned  to  giving  a  thought 
to  that  rash  promise  of  the  morning,  except  Grace 
and  my  unhappy  self  —  why  unhappy,  you  shall  see 
by  and  by. 

The  pine  is  rather  a  rare  tree  in  this  region;  but 
there  are  a  few  fine  groves;  this  by  the  lake-side 
being  the  finest,  although  but  a  relic  of  that  which 
the  records  proudly  boasted,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago.  It  looked  very  grandly  as  we  paused  on 
our  way  home,  to  pay  it  our  tribute  of  verse. 

Grace,  as  the  proposer,  was  first  called  upon  for 
her  offering;  and  gracefully  accepting  the  situation, 
read: 

Pmos  loquentes  semper  habemus. 

•*  Lowland  trees  may  lean  to  this  side  or  to  that,  though  it 
is  but  a  meadow  breeze  that  bends  them,  or  a  bank  of  cowslips 
from  which  their  trunks  lean  aslope.  But,  let  storm  or 
avalanche  do  their  worst ;  and  let  the  pine  find  only  a  ledge  of 
vertical  precipice  to  cling  to,  it  will  nevertheless  grow  straight. 
Thrust  a  rod  from  its  last  shoot  down  the  stem ;  it  shall  point 
to  the  center  of  the  earth,  as  loug  as  the  tree  stands."  *  *  *  * 
Other  trees  tufting  crag  and  hill  yield  to  the  form  and  sway  of 
the  ground  ;  clothing  it  with  soft  compliance,  are  partly  its 
subjects,  partly  its  flatterers,  partly  its  comforters.  But  the 
pine  rises  in  serene  resistance,  self  contained. —  Ruskin. 


All  hail  to  the  pine,  to  the  evergreen  pine, 

The  pride  of  our  forest,  the  boast  of  our  story: 
A  health  to  his  tassels  ;  still  green  let  them  shine. 


76  TAGHCONIC. 

To  remind  the  new  times  of  the  old  fields  of  glory  ! 
'Twas  he  to  our  fathers,  on  Plymouth's  bleak  shore, 

The  first  shelter  gave  and  the  first  welcome  bore  : 
Then  a  health  to  thy  tassels  our  own  native  pine  ; 

A  halo  of  glory,  above  us  they  shine. 

All  hail  to  the  pine,  o'er  our  heroes  that  waved, 
Ere  plumed  was  our  Eagle  or  starry  flags  floated  1 

On  field  and  on  fortress  where  tyrants  were  braved, 
The  pine  on  our  banner  the  victor  denoted. 

It  marched  iu  the  van  where  our  minute-men  met. 
Its  folds  with  the  blood  of  our  Warren  were  wet ; 

Proud  voices  of  story  are  evermore  thine, 

And  we  thrill  to  thy  murmur,  0,  eloquent  pine. 

All  hail  to  our-pine,  fadeless  type  of  the  true  1 

The  changeless  in  beauty,  unbending,  undaunted ; 
The  banner  of  green,  to  the  May  breeze  he  threw. 

In  the  gales  of  December  as  bravely  are  flaunted. 
He  meeteth  the  blast  when  the  tempest  is  high, 

Nor  faints  in  the  heat  of  the  scorched  summer  sky. 
Grand  poet,  pure  teacher,  high  priest  of  truth's  shrine, 

Thou  art  evermore  with  us  thrice  eloquent  pine  1 

"When  Grace  rolled  out  that  Latin  quotation-title 
in  her  fullest  and  richest  tones  I  opened  my  eyes 
wide  and  stared  at  her  in  a  half  dazed  way  —  glared 
at  her,  as  she  tells  it;  and  got  a  provokingly  saucy 
smile  for  my  pains.  But,  as  she  read  on  with  melo- 
dious calmness,  my  blood  fairly  tingled;  partly  with 
amazement,  partly  with  vexation  and  perplexity. 

"  There  was  nothing  in  the  verses  so  startling  as 
that  comes  to,"  you  remark. 

Xo  indeed  !  but  the  fact  is,  I  had  spent  some 
weary  hours,  the  day  before,  preparing  to  extem- 
porize  those   very  lines,  which  the  minx  was  coolly 


SHOON-KEEK-MOON-KEEK.  77 

reciting  as  dashed  off  by  herself  in  our  pic-nio 
hubbub.  But  scolding  would  have  been  absurd, 
especially  as,  to  tell  the  truth,  she  read  my  poor  pur- 
loined verses,  so  charmingly  that  they  sounded 
almost  like  real  poetry.  To  make  a  formal  claim  to 
the  authorship  was  at  least  dangerous,  in  view  of  the 
probability  that  this  was  the  very  ambuscade  into 
which  my  fair  foe  was  trying  to  lead  me,  and  once 
there  I  should  be  at  the  mercy  of  her  merciless  wit. 

There  was  only  one  road  out  of  the  scrape;  and 
luckily  I  took  it  —  I  overwhelmed  her  with  the  most 
outrageous  praises  of  her  poem,  and  wondered  that 
it  could  have  been  written  in  the  brief  and  broken 
intervals  of  such  a  day.  I  had  never  suspected  her 
of  such  genius.  Then  I  tore  my  own  manuscript  to 
shreds,  declaring  that  it  should  never  be  brought 
into   comparison   with   such   a   transcendent  work. 

The  rest  of  the  party,  astounded  at  my  extrava- 
gance, fancied  that  I  was  crazed  by  love,  or  some- 
thing else  equally  far  from  my  heart;  and  even  the 
marvellous  equipoise  of  Grace  was  a  little  disturbed. 
But  she  quickly  regained  her  composure,  and  we 
both  kept  our  counsel  for  that  day. 

Of  course  the  truth  came  out  in  the  end,  and  I 
received  the  credit  which  that  eloquent  reading 
gained  for  my  verse.  Now  I  am  rash  enough  to 
throw  it  away  by  printing  the  thing.  I  wont  spoil 
a  story  for  relation's  sake,  even  though  the  relation- 
ship be  so  close  as  mine  to  myself.  And,  from  the 
first,  I  determined  to  describe  this  particular  pic-nio 
with  reasonable  fulness,  just  to  show  the  uninitiated 


78  .  TAGHCONIC. 

what  a  Berkshire  pic-nic  really  is.  I  shall  not  need 
to  depict  another  so  minutely,  unless  it  be  of  a 
different  class.  ^ 

But  this  is  not  yet  ended.  Some  sunny  hours  of 
the  June  day  yet  remained,  and,  as  our  party  was  to 
be  broken  on  the  morrow,  we  were  tempted  to  crowd 
as  much  as  possible  of  pleasant  adventure  into  the 
present  excursion.  We  therefore  resolved  to  extend 
our  ride  to  a  wonderful  rock  of  v/hich  we  had  heard 
much,  and  which  could  be  reached  by  an  additional 
drive  of  perhaps  two  miles,  around  the  north  end  of 
the  lake.  There  is  a  nearer  road  to  it  from  Pittsfield 
village;  but  this,  by  and  around  Pontoosuc,  is  far 
the  most  picturesque. 


The  Balanced  Rock. 
Dropped  in  nature's  careless  haste. —  Burns. 

Passing  again  the  lakeside,  we  turned,  by  a  cross- 
road towards  the  west,  and  rolled  through  a  quiet 
rural  country,  whose  inhabitants,  whose  fields  and 
cattle,  even;  nay,  whose  very  houses  and  barns; 
seemed  as  much  in  exuberant  enjoyment  of  the  day 
as  ourselves. 

"  Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might  — 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And,  grasping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 
Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers  ; 
The  flash  of  life  may  well  be  seen 

Thrilling  back,  over  hills  and  valleys; 
The  cowslip  startles  in  meadows  green  ; 

The  buttercup  catches  the  sun  in  its  chalice, 
And  there's  never  a  leaf  or  a  bud  too  mean 
To  be  some  happy  creature's  palace." — Jjowell 


THE    BALANCED    ROCK.  19 

A  hill  on  this  road  affords  fine  prospects  in  various 
directions;  especially  looking  backwards  upon  the 
lake,  which  has  a  wilder  picturesqueness  than  when 
viewed  from  any  other  point.  The  Taghconics, 
too,  loom  up  grandly  in  front. 

When  the  sun  wanted  an  hour  of  his  setting,  we 
passed  a  few  scattered  chestnut  trees  in  a  field,  and 
entered  the  grove  which  concealed  our  sphynx. 

The  Balanced  Rock  is  a  huge  mass  of  white  marble  — 
grey  upon  its  weather-stained  surface  —  weighing 
many  tons;  rudely  triangular,  or  still  more  rudely 
oval,  in  its  shape;  and  so  nicely  balanced  on  a  pivot 
of  a  few  inches,  that,  although,  by  the  aid  of  a  lever, 
it  may  be  made  to  slightly  oscillate,  no  force  yet 
applied  —  and  it  has  been  tried  with  more  than  rea- 
sonable effort  —  has  been  able  to  overturn  it.  Of 
course  it  is  not  impossible  to  accomplish  this  van- 
dalism; but  fortunately  the  means  are  not  within 
easy  reach  of  ordinary  wantonness.  The  great  danger 
is  from  greed;  if  this  curious  work  of  nature  should 
come  into  the  possession  of  men  of  different  charac- 
ter from  those  who  have  hitherto  owned  its  site.  It 
should  be  public  property;  and  one  of  its  recent 
owners  offered  to  make  it  so,  with  sufiicient  surround- 
ing land,  on  condition  that  the  public  would  take 
measures  for  its  preservation. 

The  belief  used  to  be  that  the  mass  was  immovable, 
which  was  an  excellent  reason  for  calling  it  the  Roll- 
ing Rock,  by  which  name  it  was  first  introduced  to 
me.  But  I  can  bear  witness  that,  on  the  occasion  of 
a  certain  notable  visit  to  the  spot  by  the  combined 


80  TAGHCONIC. 

scientific  associations  of  Troy,  Albany  and  Pittsfield, 
certain  venerable  savans,  by  the  aid  of  a  friendly 
fence-rail,  did  obtain  distinct  vibrations. 

The  same  learned  gentlemen  determined,  rather 
more  doubtfully,  that  the  great  rock  was  not  perched 
up  there  —  where  it  looks  like  the  roc  described  by 
Sinbad  the  sailor  —  as  certain  other  huge  boulders 
were  strewn  about  the  county,  by  being  thrown  over- 
board from  ice-bergs  or  ice-floes,  several  million  ages 
ago.  It  seemed  to  them,  on  the  contrary,  that  the 
Balanced  Rock  grew  where  it  stands,  and  that  the 
mass  which  originally  enclosed  it  had  been  worn  away 
by  innumerable  floods.  On  the  other  hand,  a  more 
recent  geologist,  after  a  more  complete  survey  than 
the  pleasure  excursions  of  science  can  afford,  discards 
all  theories  of  floating  ice,  and  holds  that  all  these 
boulders,  the  Balanced  Rock  included,  were  de- 
posited by  fields  of  ice,  several  thousand  feet  thick, 
slowly  grinding  over  the  ancient  surface  of  the 
valley. 

They  appear  to  have  done  some  thorough  work  — 
those  old  ice  giants  —  crushing,  as  in  an  emery  milb 
quartz,  slate,  mica,  corundum,  jasper,  marble,  horn- 
blende, green-stone,  iron,  and  every  rock  that  could 
be  gathered  from  the  neighboring  mountains,  into  all 
required  sizes  from  that  of  the  Balanced  Rock  and  the 
Alderman,  to  the  dust  that  grits  in  your  teeth  and 
sends  a  cold  shudder  through  you  when  the  ther- 
mometer is  raging  among  the  nineties.  You  may  see 
fine  specimens  of  ice-age-work  carefully  assorted  in 
the   curious   strata  of  any  of  our  Berkshire  gravel- 


ATOTARHO'S    DUFF.  81 

beds;  and  it  will  be  well  worth  your  while  to  make 
a  study  of  them. 

But,  as  these  explanations  of  the  phenomenon  of 
the  Balanced  Rock  refer  to  obscure  dates  far  back 
in  the  infinite  eons;  and  the  record,  whatever  the 
geologists  aver,  may  not  seem  to  you  indisputable, 
perhaps  you  may  prefer  something  within  the  range 
of  authentic  history,  as  related,  for  instance,  by  those 
grave  chroniclers,  Hendrick  Aupaumut  and  Grace 
Scheherazade.  And  it  is  but  reasonable  that  you 
should  have  it. 

I   assume  that  you  know  something  of  the  Ato- 

tarhos  of  the  Iroquois,  or  Six  Nations;  a  line  of  kings 

or  emperors,  of  whom  each,  when  he  succeeded  to  the 

office,   took   also   the   name  of  the  founder   of  the 

dynasty,    just   as    the   Roman    emperors   were   all 

Cffisars.      Individuals  of  the  line  were  gifted  with 

diverse  divine,  or  at  least  supernatural,  attributes  and 

powers;  all  being  esteemed  demi-gods  of  one  estate 

or  an  other.     The  first,  a  truculent  old  fellow,  had  a 

complete   table   service   made   of   the  bones  of  his 

enemies;  and  he  had  an  imposing  way  of  receiving 

even  friendly  deputations,  clad  in  an  entire  panoply 

of   living     and  venomous  serpents.     I  have  seen  a 

portrait  of  his  majesty  in  that  royal  costume.     Most 

of    his    descendants,    although   invariably  wise    in 

counsel  and  mighty  in  war,  were  of  a  more  gentle 

kind.     The  particular  Atotarho,  with  whom  we  have 

here  to  do,  was  ordinarily  of  even  feminine  beauty 

and  delicacy;  and  devoted  himself  to  the  cultivation 

of  the  milder  virtues  among  his  people.     A  white 


82  TAGHCONIC. 

poet  has  even  ventured  to  fable  that  this  gentle  ruler 
was  the  daughter  of  Count  Frontenac,  stolen  in  her 
infancy,  and  palmed  oif  on  the  confiding  tribes  by  a 
childless  predecessor.  But  the  Iroquois  were  not 
the  sort  of  people  to  see  any  divinity  in  a  woman, 
and  they  aver  that,  if  occasion  required,  he  could 
assume  gigantic  proportions  and  unlimited  strength. 
And  this  assertion  is  fully  borne  out  by  the  story  of 
the  Balanced  Rock. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  Indian  youth  were 
severely  trained  to  athletic  sports, —  quoits,  clubs  and 
the  like, —  and  you  may  or  may  not,  have  heard 
that  a  favorite  game,  was  one  which,  under  the  name 
of  "  duff,"  was  a  favorite  also  among  my  own  school- 
fellows, who  played  it  with  paving  stones.  It  con- 
sists in  placing  one  stone  upon  another,  and  then 
attempting  to  dislodge  it,  by  pitching  a  third  from 
such  distance  as  the  player  can;  a  feat  which  requires 
more  strength  and  nearly  as  much  skill  as  the  kin- 
dred game  of  quoits. 

It  was  a  long,  long  while  ago  that  a  party  of 
Mohegan  youth  were  excited  over  this  sport  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Balanced  Rock.  Words  ran 
high  and  indeed  blow^s  seemed  exceedingly  imminent 
when  their  attention  was  diverted  to  a  slender 
youth  who  stood  leaning  against  a  neighboring  tree 
in  admiration  of  a  sport  in  which  he  seemed  ill 
adapted  to  take  part.  Had  the  elders  of  the  tribe 
been  present,  doubtless  the  courtesy  to  a  stranger 
required  by  Indian  etiquette  would  have  mitigated 
the  rudeness  of  the  youngsters'  wit ;  but,  left  to  them- 


83 

selves,  and  taught  to  despise  effeminacy,  the  strange 
youth  appeared  to  them  a  fair  mark  for  their  raillery, 
and  they  did  not  spare  him,  notwithstanding  his 
modest  and  manly  responses. 

But  the  loudest  laugh  was  when,  as  if  provoked 
beyond  endurance,  he  accepted  a  taunting  challenge 
to  a  trial  of  strength  and  skill.  The  laugh  was  brief, 
and  changed  to  cries  of  terror,  when  they  saw  the 
slender  but  lithe  figure  grow  to  giant  size.  Then 
they  knew  the  Atotarho  of  their  masters,  the  Iro- 
quois; and  when  he  hurled  the  huge  rocks  about,  as 
you  still  see  them,  they  would  have  fled  had  not  his 
glance  held  them  fast.  At  last,  seizing  the  largest 
boulder  to  be  found,  as  one  would  a  pebble,  he  fixed 
it  where  you  now  marvel,  and^  the  geologists 
blunder,  over  it  —  the  Balanced  Rock. 

Then,  resuming  the  slender  figure,  to  which  the 
frightened  youth  were  now  quite  reconciled,  he 
gave  them  a  lesson  in  manners  and  morals,  which 
was  handed  down  through  all  after-generations  of  the 
Mohjegans,  whose  tradition-keeper-in-chief  yearly  re- 
peated it  from  the  top  of  The  Atotaeho's  Duff. 

Now,  does  not  that  sound  a  vast  deal  more  sensible 
and  truthful  than  all  that  stuff  about  icebergs  float- 
ing round  Perry's  Peak,  or  glaciers  five  thousand 
feet  thick  in  the  Housatonic  valley?  Methinks  1 
hear  you  say ;  "  Now,  actilly,  donH  it  9  " 

Well,  one  thing  is  certain;  whether  this  old  rock 
got  its  marvellous  poise  at  the  hand  of  enchantment 
or  by  the  still  more  wondrous  w-orkings  of  nature, 
we  came  to  visit  it,  that  June  afternoon,  with  min- 


84  TAGHCONIC. 

gled  merriment  and  astonishment.  M.  rushed  to  it 
with  a  ringing  laugh,  declaring  she  would  push  the 
monster  from  the  seat  he  had  kept  longer  than  was 
right.  Her  gay,  fairy-like  figure  pressed  against  the 
rude,  grey  mass  with  such  mimic  might,  reminded 
me  of  a  task  assigned,  in  some  elfin  tale,  to  a  rebellious 
hand-maiden  of  Queen  Mab. 

We  had  a  little  intellectual  amusement  in  deci- 
ohering  the  names  of  innumerable  Julias  and  Caro- 
Anes,  Rosalinds,  Janes,  and  "  Roxany  Augustys," 
inscribed  by  affectionate  jack-knives,  upon  the  bark 
of  the  surrounding  trees.  Some  classic  gentlemen, 
dolefully  destitute  of  a  doxy,  had  enrolled  among 
them  the  words,  "Memnon,"  and  "Peucinia."  I 
have  since  heard  the  story  of  the  merry  hour  when 
"  Memnon "  was  inscribed  by  a  hand  which  has 
written  many  a  witty  and  clever  volume.  Indeed, 
indeed  there  must  have  been  a  deal  of  witchery  in 
the  cunning  priestess  who  made  that  stern  old  rock 
breathe  such  mysterious  and  enchanting  music. 
"  Can  any  mortal  creature  of  earth's  mould 
Breathe  such  divine  enchanting  ravishment  ?  " 

I  should  think  not.  Was  it  a  wood-nymph  then 
with  her  music  box  !  Was  there  ever  anything  in 
that  broken  champagne  bottle  at  the  foot  of  the 
sphynx  ?  And  do  wood-nymphs  drink  champagne  ? 
This  grove  is  very  questionable  and  full  of  marvels. 

When  we  had  clambered  with  a  world  of  pains  on 
to  the  top  of  the  rock,  we,  too,  had  music  —  merry 
and  sad  —  "  music  at  the  twilight  hour."  Then,  as 
the  evening  shades  deepened  in  the  wood  came  low- 


THE  BALANCED  EOCK.  85 

spoken  words  of  memory  and  of  longing  for  those 
far  away.  Alas  !  if  all  whom  Ave  invoked  had 
come,  the  grave  and  the  sea  must  have  given  up  their 
dead. 

With  voices  softened  and  mellowed  by  deeper 
feeling,  my  companions  sang  an  "  Ave  Maria,"  and 
we  bade  farewell,  not  gaily,  to  a  scene  mysteriously 
consecrated  by  memories  not  its  own.  So,  often,  in 
scenes  and  hours  when  we  invoke  the  ministers  of 
joy,  other  spirits  arise  in  their  places,  and  we  do 
not  bid  them  down. 


VI. 

LEBANON   SPRINGS  — A  DASH  AT   LIFE 
THERE. 


So  when,  on  Lebanon's  sequestered  liight,    . 
The  fair  Adonis  left  the  realms  of  light, 
Bowed  his  bright  locks,  and  fated  from  his  birth 
To  change  eternal. —  Darwin's  Botanic  Garden. 

Down  in  the  hilly  valley,  beyond  the  Taghconics, 
is  Lebanon  —  New  Lebanon:  the  capital  of  the  Shaker 
world,  the  seat  of  the  mineral  springs,  the  most  de- 
lightful of  watering  places,  the  birth-place  of  Samuel 
J.  Til  den,  and  our  Gretna  Green.  All  the  world 
knows  Lebanon,  but  much  of  it  about  as  accurately 
as  the  knowledge-seeking  traveller  who,  on  the  morn- 
ing after  his  arrival,  desired  to  be  shown  the  cedars 
for  which  he  was  told  the  place  was  famous.  Lest 
any  of  you  should  waste  your  time  in  antiquarian 
research  for  the  point  where  "  the  fair  Adonis  left  the 
realms  of  light,"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that 
it  was  the  door  which  opens  from  the  gay  parlors  of 
Columbia  Hall  out  upon  the  long  balconies  on  a 
moonless  night.  Lebanon  Adonises  "  bow  their 
bright  locks  ''  t<)  the  brighter  eyes  of  the  belle  of  the 
season;  and,  as  there  is  likely  to  be  a  new  one  every 
two  or  three  months,  they  are  fated  to  eternal  change. 
That  explains  the  fable. 


LEBANON  SPRINGS.  87 

The  Springs  are  a  very  Mecca  for  summer  pilgrims. 
The  first  June  heats  bring  the  habitues  with  their 
quiet  quite-at-home  air.  A  little  later,  others,  catch- 
ing a  feverish  impulse  from  the  city  miasma,  rush 
away  like  mad  to  flirt  awhile  with  Nature  and  Hy- 
geia  among  the  mountains.  Still  others  take  a  season 
here  after  their  Saratoga;  like  hock  and  soda-water 
after  champagne.  At  all  seasons  —  midwinter 
even  —  the  people  of  all  the  region-round-about  love 
their  little  trips  to  The  Pool. 

"The  Pool:  "  that  was  the  neighborhood  name  in 
the  simple  days  of  old.  Catharine  Sedgwick,  who 
then,  and  always,  well  loved  this  resort,  delighted  to 
speak  of  it  as  The  Pool,  and  that  is  what  Miss  Warner 
also  calls  it  in  her  charming  novel,  Queechy.  Queechy 
Lake,  by  the  way,  is  one  of  the  prettiest  features  in 
Lebanon  scenery,  and  the  ride  to  it  is  a  favorite  drive. 

This  valley  was  the  Wyomanock  of  the  Mohegans, 
and  the  name  still  clings  to  the  stream  whicii  flows 
through  it.  Very  lovely  are  both  vale  and  stream. 
If  natural  beauty  were  the  sole  test  of  excellence  few 
watering  places  would  riral  Lebanon  Springs,  But 
they  have  other  merit  than  this.  It  is  claimed  that 
they  are  the  oldest  watering  place  in  America;  and 
village  tradition  will  tell  you  that,  a  hundred  ai:d 
seventy  years  ago,  or  about  the  close  of  the  last  French 
and  Indian  war,  a  certain  Captain  Hitchcock,  then 
stationed  at  Hartford,  finding  himself  afiiicted  with 
a  grievous  malady,  was  induced 'to  try  these  waters. 
"  He  came,"  says  an  interesting  lo^cal  writer,  "  with 
ono  servant  and  a  company  of  Indian  guides,  and 


88  TAGHCONIC. 

was  carried  from  Stockbridge  to  the  Springs  on  a 
litter,  and  by  an  Indian  trail,  there  being  no  roads. 
He  found  a  large  basin  filled  with  water,  and,  from 
appearances  around  it,  judged  it  to  be  a  bathing  place 
for  the  natives."  Captain  Hitchcock  camped  for 
several  days  near  the  springs,  and  received  great 
benefit  from  their  use.  After  the  peace  he  returned 
to  New  Lebanon  as  a  permanent  resident,  and  his  de- 
scendants still  live  there. 

Before  the  Revolutionary  war,  the  Springs  had 
become  noted.  In  the  early  part  of  the  present 
century  they  continued  to  grow  in  repute,  and 
towards  its  middle,  society  there  was  subjected  to 
the  praises  of  Nat.  Willis,  the  sarcasms  of  Mrs. 
Trollope  and  the  judicious  criticism  of  Miss  Sedgwick, 
But  why  bother  with  the  old  life  at  the  Pool  while 
the  living  world  of  the  Sj)rings  so  provokingly 
challenges  us  to  read  it  —  if  we  can.  It  were  an 
infinitely  curious  study  to  enquire  what  brings  each 
individual  into  the  respectably-motley  throng;  but, 
unfortunately  for  psychological  science,  the  so- 
journers at  fashionable  hotels  are  the  most  incommu- 
nicative of  beings;  reticence  being  the  primal  law 
of  society  —  technically  so  called.  Lamentable  as 
that  fact  is,  we  need  not,  however,  despair;  having 
a  ready  resource  in  that  supreme  faculty  of  guessing, 
which  makes  us,  Yankees,  from  Emerson  to  Andrew 
Jackson  Davis,  the  incomparable  philosophers,  we  all 
are. 

It  is  a  pleasant  and  profitable  recreation  to  ex- 
ercise this  precious  and  peculiar  faculty,  of  a  lazy 


LEBANON   SPRINGS.  89 

summer  a;fternoon,  on  the  long  verandahs  of  Columbia 
Hall.  Laziness  is  the  mother  of  at  least  one  school 
of  philosophy,  and  guessing  at  the  foibles  of  one's 
friends  is  always  delightful:  their  virtues,  I  take  it, 
guessing  j)hilosophy  generally  leaves  to  be  proved. 

There  are  some  hundreds  of  human  beings  about 
the  huge  hotel,  most  of  whom  may  be  supposed  to 
have  some  motive,  not  of  a  purely  sanitary  character, 
in  coming  here;  and  to  have  also  some  notion,  more 
or  less  definite,  of  the  nature  of  the  place  and  the 
part  they  are  to  play  in  it.  In  the  old  times  of  the 
Pool,  we  might  have  gone  straight  to  the  point,  and 
asked  people  what  they  thought  of  things  in  general, 
and  themselves  in  particular;  but,  since  Mrs.  Trollope, 
Capt.  Hall  and  the  Dickens  have  snubbed  inquisi- 
tiveness  out  of  American  manners,  that  won't  do  at 
all.  It  might  reap  the  reward  of  impertinence. 
No  matter;  a  tolerably  shrewd  guess  may  do  as  well. 
Let  us  guess  then. 

It  would  not  require  a  Connecticut  Solomon  to 
discover  that  the  student-looking  young  man,  with 
an  orange-colored  face  and  sea-green  spectacles, 
thinks  himself  in  an  enormous  hospital,  or  perhaps 
only  a  mammoth  apothecary's  shop.  I  dare  say  he 
spends  his  most  contented  hours  in  the  famous 
medicine  factory  of  the  Tildens,  two  miles  down  the 
street.  He  deems  those  gorgeous,  flaunting  dames, 
of  whose  bright  j)resence  he  is  rather  vaguely  con- 
scious, of  no  more  real  value  —  since  they  will  not 
nurse  his  invalidship  —  than  the  colored  waters  in 
the  apothecary's  window  opposite. 


90  TAGHCONIC. 

Those  gay  ladies  themselves,  of  course,  view  the 
matter  in  a  very  reverse  light.  Take  one  of  them, 
for  example  —  that  flirting,  chatting,  jewelled  thmg, 
Madame,  the  wife  of  the  Wall  Street  millionaire. 
With  both  those  clear-orbed  eyes  wide  open,  she  can 
see  little  in  this  magnificent  panorama  of  hill  and 
valley,  and  this,  its  life-throbbing  heart,  more  than 
a  splendid  ball  room  or  gorgeous  saloon;  as  indeed, 
for  that  matter,  she  would  like  the  wide,  wide  world 
to  be  —  and  is  vastly  annoyed  that  misery,  with 
her  discordant  shrieks  and  disgusting  deformities, 
should  presume  to  spoil  the  music  and  mar  the  deco- 
rations. 

That  blinking  exquisite  in  those  outrageously 
stunning  habiliments  —  him  with  the  eye-glass  pain- 
fully squinnied  in  between  bloated  cheek  and  villan- 
ously  low  forehead;  him  with  his  nose  turned  up, 
as  if  in  scorn  of  the  poor  moustache  struggling  for 
life  in  the  exhausted  soil  below  it  :  he  has  gradu- 
ated from  Paris;  and  the  dazzling,  dancing  dames 
hold  l;iim  a  prodigy  of  intellect.  But  you  note  that 
he  has  all  the  external  symptoms  of  being  a  thorough- 
bred donkey;  and  I  think  a  practiced  guesser  would 
have  little  difficulty  in  making  him  out  a  weak  cadet 
of  one  of  those  families  to  whom  the  Jenkinses  of 
the  New  York  press  have  given  brevet  rank  as 
"  aristocrats." 

Look  again.  You  would  call  yonder  a  frank,  free- 
hearted, undesigning  girl.  Hear  with  what  joyous, 
summerly  f  orgetf  ulness  she  throws  off  those  snatches 
of  unstudied  song;    and   see  how   ingenuously   the 


LEBAXOX    SPEIXGS.  91 

blusli  rises  in  her  cheek,  now  she  remembers  that  she 
is  not  alone.  You  would  not  dream  now  —  would 
you  ?  —  that  she  looks  upon  this  fair  spot  only  as  a 
mart  in  which  she  is  to  dispose  of  that  dear  little 
commodity  —  herself  —  to  the  best  possible  advan- 
tage ?  Yet  I'll  wager  you  a  small  farm  I  have  in  the 
clouds,  that  every  note  of  that  outgushing  melody 
was  aimed,  point  blank,  at  the  handsome  gentleman 
who  has  been  conversing,  these  two  hours  past,  with 
the  pale  girl  in  black.  I  only  hope  the  minstrel  will 
not  be  malicious  enough  to  say,  the  pale  girl  is 
"  setting  her  cap"  for  the  handsome  gentleman. 

Why  don't  she  turn  her  thought  to  drive  away 
the  cloud  which  has  settled  in  the  eye  of  the  gloomy- 
browed  man  who  is  pacing  the  verandah  so  heavily  ? 
Bless  us  !  the  summer  sunshine  glances  off  from 
him,  and  leaves  not  a  trace  of  light;  he  has  never 
sold  his  shadow  to  Satan.  Yet  I  misdoubt;  and  so  we 
go  on,  doubting  and  misdoubting,  guessing  and  mis- 
guessing:  sure  enough  —  if  we  would  consider  it  — 
of  two  things;  that  we  shall  always  hit  wide  enough 
of  the  mark,  and  never  too  near  the  charitable  side 
of  it.  "  Wise  judges  are  we,  of  each  other's 
actions  !  " 

This  Lebanon  is  not  without  its  vein  of  romance. 
How  could  it  be,  when  youth  and  age,  folly  and  wis. 
dom,  joy  and  sorrow,  love  and  hatred,  life  and  death, 
make  it  their  yearly  rendezvous  ?  How  strange  a 
rendezvous,  oft-times  !  Of  those  who  seek  here  new 
thought,  new  hope,  new  feelings,  how  many  find 
only  what  they  bring —  a  jaded  mind  and  a  palsied 
heart  ?-    Mind  cramped  to  the  puny  pursuit  of  puny 


92  TAGHCONIC. 

things  will  not  always,  upon  the  mountains,  expand 
and  glow  with  the  widening  horizon  and  the  purer 
sunlight.  Passion,  born  luxuriously  in  the  crowded 
city,  grows  and  strengthens,  and  will  not  die,  in  the 
bracing  upland  air.  Yet  is  there  forgetfulness  of 
lighter  woes  and  less  corroding  cares,  in  the  gay 
saloons  and  woodland  drives,  as  well  as  marvellous 
virtue  for  the  diseased  body  in  the  bubbling  waters 
and  fresh  breezes.  Care-worn  men  and  women 
worn  with  ennui,  do  get  new  elasticity  of  thought 
and  frame;  but  in  what  do  they  seek  a  balm  for 
the  wounded  spirit,  who  bring  hither  the  broken 
hearted  also  —  like  thee,  fair  and  gentle  L.  —  or  was 
it  that  thy  pure  sj)irit  might  wing  its  way  to  Heaven 
through  purer  skies  than  overhang  thy  native  city  ? 
I  said  Lebanon  had  its  vein  of  romance.  A 
bachelor  friend  of  mine,  who  has  been  a  lounger  at 
Columbia  Hall  every  summer  these  ten  years  past, 
has  a  rich  fund  of  stories  —  humorous,  melo-drama- 
tic,  and  tragical  —  about  those  who  have  fluttered, 
flattered,  flirted,  and  flitted  here  in  that  time.  With 
him,  half  the  demoiselles  who  have  "  made  their 
market "  under  his  eye,  are  heroines  of  a  quality 
which  would  surprise  themselves  not  a  little  to  know, 
and  their  husbands  a  good  deal  more.  It  is  often  a 
matter  of  discussion  with  us,  whether,  among  other 
connubial  revelations,  the  arts  and  devices  whereby 
he  was  entrapped  are  usually  disclosed  to  the  husband. 
In  the  absence  of  data  from  which  to  conclude,  we 
always  end  in  the  same  mists  in  which  we  set  out. 
One  of  my  bachelor  friend's  stories  I  will  venture  to 


93 

repeat,  although  I  perceive  it  loses  half  its  flavor, 
for  lack  of  the  gusto  with  which  he  would  dwell 
upon  it. 

She  Would  be  a  Gentleman's  Wife, 

"  More  beauty  than  ever  at  Lebanon  this  year," 
I  remarked  to  my  friend,  as  we  sat  together  one  even- 
ing, about  a  year  since;  it  was  a  common  observation, 
and  I  thought  myself  particularly  safe  in  repeat- 
ing it. 

"  Hey  !  what's  that  you  say  ? "  he  ejaculated, 
after  a  pause,  in  which  it  seemed  my  words  had  been 
following  him  far  down  into  the  depths  of  reverie. 
"  More  beauty  than  ever  !  Let  me  tell  you,  my 
dear  fellow,  that  you  know  nothing  at  all  of  the 
matter.  It's  one  of  the  stupid  common-places  of 
stupid  common  people." 

I  bowed  to  the  compliment,  and  the  bachelor  went 
on  with  a  half  sigh,  "  Ah  !  you  should  have  known 
us  in  the  reign  of  the  bitter  and  beautiful  Lizzie  B., 
or  in  that  of  the  wonder-working  Mrs.  M." 

Here  the  bachelor  again  relapsed  into  reverie,  and 
I  had  time  to  remark  to  myself  that  this  hankering 
after  faded  flowers,  when  the  world  was  full  of  fresh, 
was  an  ugly  symptom  that  my  friend's  own  hey-day 
of  beaudom  must  be  on  the  wane.  When  people 
begin  to  complain  that  they  can  find  no  beauty,  now- 
a-days,  like  that  which  they  used  to  meet,  look  if 
they  don't  wear  wigs,  and  other  falsities  of  decora- 
tion. 

"But  the  most  charming  season,"  resumed  the 


94  TAGHCONIC. 

bachelor,  emerging  again  into  the  present,  "  was  that 
of  185-,  when  Kate  L.  was  in  the  ascendant.  She 
was  far  enough  from  beautiful,  was  Mrs.  L.,  but  such 
a  winsome  way  she  had  with  her  that  we  all,  to  a 
man,  acknowledged  her  sceptre  —  and  the  most 
dazzling  belle  in  her  realm  was  ready  to  die  with 
envy:  envy,  by  the  bye,  was  a  vice  Mrs.  L.  was  es- 
pecially free  from.  Never  was  woman  more  ready 
to  recognize  and  exhibit  the  charms  of  her  rivals. 
She  surrounded  her  throne  with  a  constellation  of 
lovely  women  from  far  and  near,  and  would  let  none 
be  eclipsed.  A  kind-hearted  creature  was  she,  and  a 
sensible  to  boot;  a  tithe  part  the  jealousy  we  en- 
dured from  the  splendid  Lizzie  B.  would  have  made 
Kate  look  as  ugly  as  a  Bornese  ape. 

"  But  it  was  of  her  throne-maidens  that  I  was  going 
to  boast.  I  wish  you  could  have  looked  in  upon  one 
of  our  gala  nights;  we  have  none  such  now —  (that, 
entre  nous,  was  a  fib  of  the  bachelor's).  There  was 
a  floral  ball  we  had  one  night  in  July  —  I  have  some 
reason  to  remember  it,  but  no  matter.  Mrs.  L.  had 
made  more  than  usual  exertions  in  getting  up  this 
festival,  which  was  the  opening  one  of  the  season. 
The  arrangements  were  perfect;  —  the  floral  decora- 
tions unique  and  profuse;  the  music  superb;  and  the 
supper  just  what  it  should  be.  But  our  Lady 
Patroness  was  too  true  a  genius  to  give  to  these  con- 
comitants the  monopoly  of  her  attention.  With  a 
magic  little  crow-quill  by  way  of  wand,  she  sum- 
moned from  all  manner  of  retreats,  the  most  brilliant 
assemblage  of  fair  women  and  distinguished  men 


OUE  feiend's  stoey.  95 

that  I  have  ever  beheld  among  these  hills ;  and  when 
Mrs.  L.  summoned  youth  and  beauty,  you  might  be 
sure  there  was  something  to  be  done.  I  am  going 
to  leave  them  to  do  it,  while  I  tell  you  of  my  cousin 
Ellen,  the  fairest  of  them  all. 

"  You  remember  Nell  —  my  uncle  Fred's  Nell  — 
the  merriest  girl  that  ever  hid  deep  design  under 
careless  laugh.  Uncle  Fred.,>  you  must  know,  left 
her  an  orphan  at  twenty  —  with  exquisite  accomplish- 
ments, unrivalled  tact,  and  four  thousand  dollars, 
with  which  to  make  her  way  in  the  world,  as  she  best 
might.  Her  guardian  —  a  staid,  business-like  old 
gentleman,  guardian  to  half  the  heiresses  in  the 
county,  as  well  —  when  her  year  of  mourning  was 
over,  advised  her  to  buy  a  share  in  a  boarding-school, 
and  earn  her  living  by  teaching.  '  With  your  accom- 
plishments and  talents,  my  dear,' — the  good,  fatherly 
old  man  was  goiiig  on,  when  he  was  astonished  to 
find  his  pretty  ward  cutting  short  his  speech  with  — 

"  '  With  my  accomplishments  and  talents,  my  diear 
guardian,  I  don't  intend  to  squeeze  my  brain  like  a 
lemon,  to  give  flavor  to  some  insipid  school-girl,  while 
I  might  as  well  be  rivalling  her  mamma.  No  !  I'll 
invest  in  —  a  husband  ! ' —  and  here  her  little  foot 
came  down  with  a  will. 

"  The  guardian  stared;  but  he  was  too  sensible  a 
man  to  oppose  a  woman  whose  will  was  up;  and  so, 
under  the  nominal  chaperonship  of  his  wife,  Ellen 
opened  her  first  campaign  at  Lebanon. 

"That  night  of  the  floral  fete^  she  stood,  the 
centre  of  an  admiring  group  —  a  slight,  aerial  figure, 


96 


TAGHCONIC. 


but  full  of  elastic  life  and  vigor;  her  face  transparent 
with  changing  light,  and  her  eye  overflowing  with  a 
flood  of  love  and  laughter.  She  was  di-essed  with 
wonderful  artistic  skill;  for  the  life  of  me  I  could 
not  imagine  how  she  contrived  to  arrange  her  mist- 
like drapery  so  that  she  seemed  always  on  the  point 
of  rising  into  air.  I  have  since  heard  that  it  is  no 
mystery  among  mantua-makers.  Among  the  crowd 
of  women,  laden  and  over-laden  with  all  kinds  of 
flowers,  native  and  exotic,  Nell  had  only  twisted  in 
her  hair  a  few  snowy,  star-shaped  blossoms  —  the 
spoil  of  a  mountain  excursion.  Not  a  fold  of  her 
robes,  not  a  tress  on  her  head,  but  seemed  too  spiritual 
for  mortal  touch.  I  have  since  learned  that  the 
artistes  call  this  style  of  dress,  la  Gahrielle.  It  is 
a  triumph  of  genius;  but  I  would  not  advise  any 
lady  weighing  over  two  hundred  to  attempt  it. 

"Frank  Leigh  was  conversing  with  my  etherial 
eousin  in  a  composed  tone,  and  with  a  gaze  of  mere 
earthly  admiration  which  I  could  not  then  have  as- 
sumed for  the  world,  although  Nell  and  I  had  been 
playmates  from  infancy.  I  almost  shuddered  —  so 
strangely  had  the  fancy  possessed  me  —  when  Frank 
took  her  hand,  to  lead  her  to  the  piano,  lest  she 
should  indeed  prove  a  spirit,  and  dissolve  into  thin  air. 

"  '  Ellen  should  be  a  gentleman's  wife,'  said  a  pretty 
and  brilliant  widow  by  my  side. 

"  Wife  !  so  she  was  human.  ^  A  gentleman's  wife,' 
I  repeated  aloud,  *  and  pray  what  is  a  gentleman  ?  — 
and  why  should  Ellen,  more  than  another,  be  a  gentle- 
man's wife  ? ' 


97 

"  *  Why,'*  replied  the  widow  laughing,  *  a  gentle- 
man, in  Ellen's  vocabulary,  is  a  man  of  elegant 
manners,  with  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  dollars, 
and  a  disposition  to  spend  his  income  in  graceful  and 
fashionable  follies.  Ellen's  expensive  tastes  demand 
such  a  husband  —  and  I  hope  she  may  get  him.' 

"  *  Oh,  now  I  am  enlightened,'  I  said. 

" '  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,'  rejoined  the  widow, 
merrily.  '  But  come  with  me  out  into  the  balcony, 
and  I'll  let  you  into  a  secret  or  two.' 

"  Of  course,  such  an  offer  was  not  to  be  resisted; 
and  before  we  returned,  I  was  put  in  possession  of 
much  recherche  gossip,  known  only  to  the  initiated. 

"  There  had  come  that  year  to  the  Springs,  a  fine 
looking  young  man  —  generous,  spirited,  of  captivat- 
ing address,  and  great  reputed  wealth  —  Frank  Leigh 
by  name;  the  same  who  was  in  attendance  upon  my 
cousin  Ellen  at  the  floral  fete.  Of  course  such  a 
god-send  was  not  to  be  neglected  by  anxious  mothers, 
and  daughters  no  less  anxious.  Mrs.  L.,  finding  him 
clever,  fond  of  sport,  and  prompt  to  forward  all  her 
gay  schemes,  had  taken  him  up  at  once,  and  installed 
him  her  prime  minister.  Ellen,  I  need  not  say,  was 
quite  as  ready  to  acknowledge  his  merits. 

"  Frank  was  universally  declared  to  be  a  *  sweet 
man,'  in  the  ball-room  and  drawing-room;  but  he 
was  not  a  bit  of  a  dandy;  there  was  nothing  of  the 
exclusively  ladies'  man  about  him,  nothing  effeminate 
in  his  habits.  On  the  contrary,  his  tastes  were  emi- 
nently manly.     He   had    yachted  "on   the    Atlantic 

coast,  hunted  moose  in  a  Maine  Winter,  and  even 
9 


98  TAGHCONIC. 

taken  a  run  after  buffaloes  into  the  Sioux  country. 
Here,  among  the  quiet  hills,  his  exuberant  spirits 
found  vent  in  a  passion  for  wild  horsemanship. 
Jehu  was  a  child  to  him,  with  the  whip ;  he  was  sure 
always  to  choose  some  unmanageable  foal  of  gun- 
powder, that  nobody  else  would  come  within  a  rod 
of;  men,  even  of  strong  nerves,  were  of  opinion  that 
safer  pleasures  existed  than  a  seat  beside  Frank 
Leigh,  on  one  of  his  break-neck  drives;  and  as  for 
the  women,  not  a  soul  of  the  dear  creatures,  who 
would  have  given  their  eyes  to  secure  him  for  a 
partner  at  the  last  night's  ball,  could  be  persuaded 
to  trust  their  ivory  necks  with  him  and  his  '  Light- 
ning '  next  morning. 

"  To  all  this  was  one  most  remarkable  exception  — 
my  brave  cousin  Nell,  who  had  come  out  all  at  once 
a  perfect  Dl.  Vernon.  Ah  !  but  it  was  an  inspiriting 
sight,  to  see  her  mounted  on  her  brown  steed,  lead- 
ing her  panting  admirers  an  aimless  race  over  fields, 
brakes,  briers,  and  fences,  till  half  the  chase  foreswore 
all  pursuit  of  her  thereafter. 

"But  Nelly's  favorite  seat  was  in  Frank's  light 
buggy,  of  which  she  enjoyed  undisputed  possession  — 
her  rivals  thinking  it  a  particularly  '  bad  eminence.' 
Of  course  she  was  the  consta77t  companion  of  our 
Jehu,  and  a  fit  one,  as  it  looked.  Travellers  marvelled 
enviously,  as  Frank's  chariot  dashed  by  them,  to 
hear  Nelly's  clear,  ringing  laugh,  or  rattling  song; 
or  even  at  times  to  see  her  slight  figure  braced  back, 
her  loose  curls  flying,  and  her  little  hands  holding 


OUR  friend's  story.        .  d9 

fast  the  '  lines,'  while  she  urged  the  foaming  horses 
to  yet  more  impossible  speed;  — 

'  Like  a  dream  doth  it  seem. 
When  I  think  of  the  past ; 
Up  the  road  gallantly  dashing  along, 
Driving  two  noble  steeds,  square  built  and  strong ; 
Firmly  her  little  hands  grasping  the  reins, 
Held  them  as  firmly  as  lovers  in  cbains.' 

"  I  think  the  echoes  of  her  merry  voice  must  linger 
yet  among  the  old  woods  which  skirt  the  Hancock 
road.  Sure  I  am  that  the  dwellers  in  the  road-side 
farm-houses  yet  remember  Frank  Leigh's  dashing 
equipage,  and  the  gay  couple  with  whom  it  used  to 
fly  by  their  doors,  at  such  flashing  speed. 

"  Beside  his  equestrian  fancies,  Frank  was  exceed- 
ingly prone  to  romantic  excursions,  and  by  the  aid  of 
the  good-natured  Mrs.  L.,  who  was  nothing  loath,  led 
us  upon  a  hundred  wild  adventures  among  the  hills, 
to  the  great  detriment  of  patent  leather  and  super- 
fine broadcloth.  Here,  too,  Nell  was  the  co-leader 
with  the  rattle-brain  heir  ;  never  a  ramble  ended 
until  she  had  joined  him  in  one  mad-cap  feat  or 
another. 

"  All  this  you  may  be  sure  gave  ample  room  and 
verge  enough  for  bitter  tongues;  but  the  sage  con- 
clusion of  one  shrewd  lady,  that  *  some  folks  could 
do  what  other  folks  couldn't,'  soon  came  to  be  in  sub- 
stance the  universal  sentiment.  Indeed,  with  all 
Nelly's  faults  and  follies,  it  was  impossible,  when  you 
knew  her,  to  think  her  capable  of  anything  very 
wrong. 


100  TAGHCONIC. 

"  One  opinion,  at  least,  every  body  held,  and  that 
was,  that  she  was  just  the  girl  to  charm  Frank  Leigh — 
and  that  she  had  charmed  him  to  some  purpose. 
Every  body  but  my  friend  the  widow,  who,  while 
she  admitted  the  boldness  and  vigor  of  Ellen's  attack, 
had  a  doubt  or  two  as  to  its  success.  '  Ellen,'  said* 
the  widow,  *  has  a  splendid  genius  f  Ox'  business,  but 
very  little  experience.  Do  you  not  notice  that  Frank 
of  late  has  another  companion  sometimes  on  his 
rides  ? ' 

"  *  What  !  the  timid  and  femininely  delicate  Miss 
P.?' 

"  *  The  same  —  and  with  what  tender  care  he  curbs 
his  speed  when  she  is  his  companion  ? ' 

"  *  It  is  very  kind  and  considerate  of  him;  the  jolts 
and  racing  in  which  Ellen  delights,  would  be  the 
death  of  Miss  P.     I  am  sure  it  is  good  in  him.' 

" '  Oh,  very  !  And  yet  is  it  not  possible  that  she 
who  tames  the  steed  may  tame  the  master  ? ' 

"  I  admitted  the  noteworthiness  of  the  fact,  but 
trusted  to  the  genius  and  address  of  my  fair  kins- 
woman for  a  successful  issue  of  her  sumnler  cam- 
paign. Indeed,  as  the  season  waned,  her  star  seemed 
to  rise  yet  higher  into  the  ascendant,  while  she  re- 
laxed no  whit  of  her  zeal,  but  cut  madder  freaks, 
rode  more  daringly,  was  more  than  ever  the  constant 
companion  of  Frank,  who,  although  he  daily  took  a 
quiet  drive  with  Miss  P.,  seemed  more  than  ever  de- 
voted to  her  dashing  rival.  Everybody  said  Frank 
had  proposed,  was  about  to  propose,  or  at  least  was 
in  honor  bound  to  propose,  to  my  cousin.     He  was 


OUR  friend's  story.  101 

set  down  as  certain  of  the  fair  hands  which  so  grace- 
fully reined  in  his  fiery  coursers.  Only  the  widow 
shook  her  curls  and  Miss  P.  said  nothing. 

"One  bright  morning  in  September,  just  before 
the  close  of  the  season,  Ellen  was  sitting  in  the  draw- 
ing room,  surrounded  as  usual  by  a  group  of  loung- 
ers—  among  whom  were  Mr.  Yinton,  a  gentleman 
of  singularly  reserved  and  quiet  manners,  and  said  to 
be  very  timid  —  and  a  Miss  Phoebe  N.,  a  young  lady 
who,  in  spite  of  nose  and  eyes  equally  awry  with  her 
temper,  was  supposed  to  be  about  to  seize  the  quiet 
gentleman,  vi  et  armis. 

"  *  So  Frank  Leigh  has  taken  us  all  by  surprise, 
and  married,'  said  some  one,  joining  the  group. 

"  '  Married  ! '  *  No  ? '  *  You  don't  mean  it.  '  How  ! ' 
*  When  ?  '  *  To  whom  ?  '  exclaimed  a  dozen  voices 
at  once  —  the  speakers,  of  course,  fixing  their  eyes 
considerately  upon  Nell:  except  Miss  N.,  who  was 
enabled  to  turn  only  one  of  hers  that  way,  but  an- 
swered: 

"  '  Oh,  to  that  stupid  Miss  P.  I  saw  them  depart 
this  morning.' 

"  *  I  am  sure  you  would  not  so  speak,  if  you  knew 
her,'  said  Ellen,  indignantly.  *  On  the  contrary,  she 
is  a  sweet,  sensible,  and  witty  girl.' 

"  '  Rather  too  quiet  for  me,'  mildly  remarked  the 
very  quiet  Mr.  Vinton. 

"  *I  don't  see  why  you  should  defend  her,'  snarled 
the  amiable  Phoebe  to  Ellen.  '  She  has  carried  off 
the  prize  we  all  assigned  to  you.' 

"  '  To  me  ! '  exclaimed  Ellen   with  real   laughter 


102  TAGHCOlSnC. 

and  well  affected  surprise;  *I  am  sure  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  all.  Frank  is  a  noble  fellow;  but  do 
you  know,  I  should  have  an  unconquerable  aversion 
to  being  rivalled  by  dogs  and  horses  ?  —  and  of 
course  '  Lightning'  and  '  Ney  '  will  hold  equal  place 
in  Frank's  heart  with  his  wife.' 

"  *  But  we,'  began  Miss  N.,  with  a  malicious  look  — 

"  *  But  me  no  biits  !  '  exclaimed  Ellen,  interrupt- 
ing her;  *  I  would  sooner  marry  a  cobbler  than  a 
horse-jockey,  be  he  never  so  rich  ! ' 

"Mr.  Vinton  looked  radiantly  happy;  Miss  Phoebe 
darkeningly  the  reverse,  for  it  was  her  '  one  woe  of 
of  life '  that  her  father  had  begun  his  ascent  to  wealth 
in  the  respectable  calling  of  a  cobbler.  ^  Ellen  saw 
where  her  shot  hit,  and  then  cast  a  penetrating 
glance  at  Vinton,  in  whose  face  she  read  more  than 
she  had  suspected." 

Here  the  bachelor  paused  for  breath.  "  And  so," 
said  I,  "  Miss  Ellen  lost  her  summer's  work." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  replied  resuming;  "you  shall 
hear.  Frank  Leigh  did  not  choose  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  woman  who  rivalled  him  in  the  accomplish- 
ments of  which  he  was  most  proud.  Even  so  sensi- 
ble a  fellow  as  he  had  a  spice  of  human  vanity  — 
quite  enough  to  cause  him  to  prefer  Miss  P.,  who 
admired  his  daring  feats,  to  Nelly,  who  demanded 
that  he  should  admire  hers,  and  showed,  moreover, 
to  all  the  world  that  they  were  not  beyond  the  attain- 
ment of  a  very  slight-framed  woman.  Besides,  he 
could  too  readily  understand  all  that  Nell  felt,  said, 
and  did;  it  is  not  the  near  view  which  charms. 


103 

"  Poor  Vinton,  however,  looking  on  from  a  dis- 
tance, became  every  day  more  enamored;  —  the 
qualities  which  Ellen  displayed  proved  so  much  the 
more  fascinating  from  their  very  strangeness  to  his 
own  nature.  But  it  is  in  vain  to  philosophize  about 
these  matters;  Vinton,  like  many  a  sensible  fellow 
before  and  since,  contrived  to  get  hopelessly  into  the 
meshes  before  he  thought  of  asking  how;  and  the 
moment  he  saw  the  field  clear,  resolved  to  occupy 
the  vacant  lovership. 

Our  light-hearted  Ariadne  I  suspect  was  secretly 
piqued  at  her  desertion;  at  all  events,  she  gave  the 
new  lover  a  world  of  encouragement.  Indeed,  so 
rapidly  did  affairs  advance,  that  the  same  afternoon 
Mr.  Vinton,  in  a  tremor  of  fear,  made  a  formal  pro- 
posal —  and  was  at  once  accepted.  Still  more  to  his 
joy,  Ellen  consented  —  if  Miss  Phoebe  is  to  be  be- 
lieved, proposed,  that  the  union  should  take  place 
that  same  evening.  So  soon  after  the  demolition 
of  her  hopes,  Ellen  reached  their  consummation, 
and  was  a  *  gentleman's  wife.' " 

"  A  queer  wooing,"  I  said,  when  the  bachelor  had 
concluded.     "  Was  the  result  happy  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  chances  were  rather  against  it,"  he  re- 
plied; "  but  fate  often  treats  us  better  than  we  de- 
serve.    The  result,  I  believe,  was  happy  for  both." 

"  And  how  about  the  widow  and  yourself  ?  " 

"  Is  not  that  the  moon  rising  yonder  ?  "  said  the 
bachelor. 


VII. 
ON  PERRY'S  PEAK. 

Profit  and  pleasure,  then,  to  mix  with  art, 
T'inform  the  judgment,  nor  offend  the  heart, 
Shall  gain  all  votes. —  Anatomie  of  Melmicholy. 


Of  all  pic-nics  in  which  many  people  join,  com- 
mend me  to  a  scientific  field-meeting.  I  do  not 
compare  that,  or  anything  else,  with  hours  like  those 
we  passed  by  the  lakeside.  The  things  are  too  diverse 
for  comparison.  Nor  do  I  mean  to  say  that,  for  once 
in  a  while,  a  merry  masquerade  in  the  glamour  of 
the  woods,  or  among  the  weird  rocks  of  Icy  Glen, 
has  not  unique  charms.  But  a  little  science  gives  a 
zest  always  fresh,  and  a  flavor  always  piquant,  never 
cloying,  to  the  enjoyment  of  large  bodies  of  fairly 
well-educated  excursionists. 

To  go  out  with  a  multitude  in  the  vague  expecta- 
tion of  a  day's  pleasure,  even  in  the  most  romantic 
regions,  often  results  in  pure  weariness  of  spirit. 
We  are  all  true  heirs  of  the  old  hunter  races.  Our 
joy  is  in  pursuit;  and  the  more  definite  the  object  of 
the  chase,  the  keener  the  pleasure.  That  is  what 
makes  him  who  has  an  aim  in  life  the  happy  man. 
That  is  what  inspires  alike  the   gold-hunter   in  the 


106 

sands  of  California  and  the  planet-seeker  among  the 
stars  of  heaven.  It  is  the  old  instinct  inherited 
from  Nimrod  and  his  fellow  huntsmen.  Or  shall  we 
trace  it,  far  back  of  these,  to  progenitors  in  the  Dar- 
winian eons  ?  Surely  my  highly  civilized  cat  shows 
indications  of  sharing  it,  when  she  leaves  the  rodent 
trophies  of  her  chase  untasted,  to  partake  of  my  own 
meal.  Clearly  her  enjoyment  is  more  purely  in  the 
pursuit,  than  is  his  who  kills  the  deer,  and  eats  the 
venison. 

But  the  point  from  which  I  have  wandered,  is  this; 
an  excursion-pic-nic  should,  if  we  would  gain  the  most 
and  the  highest  enjoyment  from  it,  have  a  more  dis- 
tinct purpose  than  the  mere  passing  of  a  few  hours 
among  pleasant  or  romantic  scenery. 

I  have  already  attempted  to  paint  the  delights  of 
the  genial,  unrestrained  social  intercourse  of  a  few 
friends  in  the  freedom  of  the  woods;  but  in  a  multi- 
tudinous picnic  there  is  no  place  for  that  —  every 
hindrance  to  it.  The  snobs  who  aifect  it  are  mere 
kill- joys  and  mar-plots.  The  pic-nio  excursion  should 
have  an  aim  common  to  all  its  members;  and  all 
should  join  in  it.  I  will  take  it  for  granted  that  you 
would  not  desire  that  aim  to  be  attendance  upon  a 
cock-fight,  a  pugilistic  mill,  a  horse-race,  or  a  Fourth 
of  July  celebration.  A  camp-meeting  might  do; 
but  even  if  one  were  at  hand,  the  spirit  is  not  always 
willing,  however  it  may  be  with  the  flesh:  just  re- 
versing the  scriptural  dilemma.  The  field-meeting, 
as  conducted  by  the  scientific  associations  of  several 
New  T  ork  and  New  England  towns  and  cities,  seems 


106  TAGHCONIC. 

to  meet  the  want  precisely,  furnishing  interesting 
objects  of  pursuit  to  all  intelligent  persons,  and,  for 
the  most  part,  eliminating  all  others  from  the  pic-nic. 

This  is  a  peculiarly  American  device,  essentially 
differing  from  the  lawn-meeting  of  an  English  village 
institute,  as  described  by  Tennyson  in  his  introduc- 
tion to  The  Princess:  And  the  difference  well  illus- 
trates that  in  the  genius  of  the  two  nations.  The 
associations  under  whose  auspices  our  field-meetings 
are  held  do  not  seek  a  patron  in  any  neighboring 
great  or  rich  man;  nor  are  their  pic-nics  designed  to 
teach  the  rudiments,  or  exhibit  the  common  wonders, 
of  science  to  rustic  villagers.  The  leaders  are  often 
leaders,  as  well,  of  scientific  opinion,  investigation 
and  progress,  while  their  associates  are  generally- 
qualified  to  aid  intelligently  in  their  labors. 

These  field-meetings  —  designed  partly  as  a  relaxa- 
tion in  the  intervals  of  more  severe  study,  and  partly 
to  keep  alive  a  popular  interest  in  science  —  are  held 
in  neighborhoods  where  there  is  a  chance  that  new 
facts  may  be  elicited,  or  which  present  features,  in- 
timate acquaintance  with  which  is  in  itself  culture: 
which  contain  spots  either  picturesque,  possessed  of 
interesting  historical  associations,  or  inviting  as  a 
field  for  scientific  research.  Generally  they  combine 
all  these  attractions. 

The  addresses  which  close  and  crown  the  day,  are 
no  dry  rehearsals  of  book-lore,  but  vivacious  descrip- 
tion and  discussion  of  what  the  day  has  brought  to 
light.  There  is  of  course  no  time  for  minute  investi- 
gation or  profound  study,  but  clews  are  struck,  to 


perry's  peak.  107 

be  followed  up  afterwards,  valuable  collections  are 
made;  and,  above  all,  "thought  is  quickened  and 
awakes." 

Doubtless  there  is  also  a  great  deal  of  fun  and 
flirtation  not  strictly  scientific;  nor  yet,  perhaps, 
wholly  otherwise:  ending  sometimes,  I  am  sure,  in 
the  illustration  of  an  entirely  natural  science,  to  which 
so  renowned  a  philosopher  as  Plato  long  ago  gave 
his  best  thought,  and  a  name  which  is  too  often  taken 
in  vain.  But  when  were  hundreds  of  people,  mostly 
young  men  and  women,  ever  thrown  together  in 
pic-nic,  even  of  the  Sunday-school  variety,  without 
something  of  that  kind  happening  ?  It  was  said  of 
old: 

**  Who  marks  in  church  time  others  symmetry, 
Makes  all  their  beauty,  his  deformity." 

And  yet  I  have  heard  of  rash  young  men,  even  in 
New  England,  "  making  eyes  "  across  the  most  Puri- 
tanic of  meeting-houses  at  blushing  girls  who,  blush- 
ing*, made  eyes  back  again:  both  utterly  reckless  of 
any  resultant  ugliness. 

But,  so  far  from  there  being  any  precept  against 
love-making  at  a  scientific  pic-nic,  there  is  absolutely 
a  formula  provided,  suited  to  the  occasion: 

"  I  love  thee,  Mary,  and  thou  lovest  me, 
Our  mutual  love  is  like  the  aflBnity 
That  doth  exist  between  two  simple  bodies: 
I  am  potassium  to  thy  oxygen.  — 
'Tis  little  that  the  holy  marriage  vow 
Shall  shortly  make  us  one.     Tliat  unite 
Is,  after  all,  but  metaphysical. 
Oh,  would  that  I,  my  Mary,  were  an  acid, 


108  TAGHCONIC. 

A  living  acid ;  thou  an  alkali. 

Endowed  with  human  sense,  that  brought  together 

We  might  coalesce  into  one  salt, 

One  homogeneous  crescile.*  *  ^t  *  *  * 

An4  thus,  our  several  natures  sweetly  blent 

We'd  live  and  love  together  until  death 

Should  decompose  this  fleshly  tertium  quid, 

Leaving  our  souls  to  all  eternity 

Amalgamated.     Sweet,  thy  name  is  Brown, 

And  mine  is  Johnson,  wherefore  should  not  we 

Agree  to  form  a  Johnsonate  of  Brown  ?" 

The  scientific  field-meeting  being  a  pot-pourri  of 
solid  meats,  rich  juices  and  spicy  relishes,  you  will 
readily  believe  is  among  the  choicest  of  our  Berk- 
shire pleasures;  especially  when  it  is  enjoyed  in  such 
good  fellowship  as  the  famous  Essex  and  Albany  Insti- 
tute and  the  Troy  Scientific  Association  can  furnish. 
The  meeting  to  which  I  am  going  to  invite  you, 
however,  shall  consist  of  only  our  own  home  asso- 
ciation, with  a  few  pleasant  friends  from  Stockb ridge, 
Le.iox,  and  Richmond:  a  sort  of  family  dinner 
as  it  were. 

Perry's  Peak  is  the  highest  summit  of  one  of  the 
largest  mountain  masses  in  the  Taconic  range,  which, 
like  many  of  the  others,  has  several  minor  promi- 
nences. It  rises  one  thousand  and  thirty  feet  from 
its  base,  which  itself  has  an  altitude  of  one  thousand 
and  fifty  feet  above  the  sea  level.  A  large  part  of 
the  upper  surface  of  the  mountain,  including  the 
peak,  is  bare  of  trees,  and  often  of  soil  also;  and  as 
the  neighboring  hills  do  not  press  very  close  upon  it, 
it  affords  some  of  the  broadest,  grandest,  and  most 


109 

picturesque  views  to  be  witnessed  from  any  point  in 
Berkshire,  extending  to  Greylock  on  the  north,  Mt, 
Washington  on  the  south,  the  Catskills  on  the  west 
and  the  Hoosacks  on  the  east. 

In  the  south  the  Taghconics  proudly  raise  their 
noble  dome  against  the  sky,  while  nearer,  for  an  in- 
terval, they  present  the  appearance  of  pyramidal 
summits,  the  conventional  form  in  which  the  ab- 
stract mountain  range  is  represented,  but  which  this 
rarely  assumes  to  the  eye,  and  never  in  reality.  The 
far-off  Catskills  can  sometimes  hardly  be  told  from 
the  massive  clouds  which  overhang  and  mingle  with 
them.  You  will  be  told  that,  from  the  Peak,  steamers 
can  be  seen  passing  on  the  Hudson :  but,  for  that  pur- 
pose, you  may  as  well  be  provided  with  a  good  field- 
glass;  and,  unless  the  day  be  very  favorable,  with  the 
eye  of  faith  also.  No  doubt  it  is  well  to  keep  the 
latter  aid  to  vision  in  constant  practice :  you  will  find 
it  as  needful  at  a  field,  as  at  a  camp,  meeting.  But 
I  see  little  good  in  straining  the  natural  eye  in  an 
attempt  to  discern,  doubtfully  at  best,  objects  of 
merely  curious  interest,  when  such  a  grand  and  beau- 
tiful world  lies  within  its  easy  range. 

For  example,  here  at  the  western  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain gleams  Whiting's  Pond,  better  known  to  "  the 
wide- wide  world"  as  Queechy  Lake,  one  of'  the 
prettiest  lakelets  among  the  hills.  Upon  the  other 
side  we  look  down  upon  Richmond  Lake,  another 
pretty  sheet  of  water,  and  moreover  a  favorite  of 
sportsmen.     Eight  miles  away  we  see  the  spires  of 

Pittsfield.     Scattered  all  about  are  points  of  indi- 
10 


110  TAGHCOiflC. 

vidual  interest;  but  it  is  the  grand  coup  d"^  oeil^  which 
it  affords'  in  several  directions,  that  gives  Perry's 
Peak  its  celebrity. 

Until  recently  one  could  easily  and  safely  drive  to 
the  very  topmost  summit ;  but  a  few  years  ago  a  sum- 
mer tempest  sent  raging  torrents  down  the  mountain- 
side,cutting  huge  ravines  out  of  the  road,  and  burying 
acres  of  meadow  under  barren  gravel-heaps:  an  in- 
teresting study  for  one  inquisitive  as  to  the  Berkshire 
drift  system,  but  distressful  to  the  industrious  farmer 
and  the  lazy  excursionist.  There  is  still,  however,  a 
tolerable  road  for  the  greater  part  of  the  height,  and 
you  may  accomplish  the  rest  without  much  trouble 
by  driving  "  across  lots."  For  equestrians,  there  is  no 
difficulty.  As  I  once  approached  the  top  of  the  Peak 
it  was  crowned  by  a  well  mounted  group  whose 
graceful  figures  "darkly  painted  on  the  clear  blue 
sky  "  made  a  striking  picture  which  I  should  be  sorry 
to  think  it  impossible  to  repeat. 

Thus  easy  of  ascent,  and  temptingly  accessible  from 
Lenox,  Lebanon  Springs  and  Pittsfield,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  the  Peak  has  long  been  a  favorite  mountain  re- 
sort, although  it  has  no  such  romantic  interest  as  that 
with  which  Bryant  has  invested  Monument  Moun- 
tain, nor  such  poetic  fame  as  Dr.  Holmes,  Mrs. 
Kemble  and  Thoreau,  have  conferred  upon  Greylock. 
It  remains  unsung,  although  a  poet  of  no  mean 
powers  and  with  hereditary  obligation  to  do  it  honor, 
was  born  almost  at  its  foot.  The  reason  possibly  is 
that  its  charms  are  in  the  views  from,  not  of,  it. 
Its  individuality,  although   decided,  is   not  of    the 


perry's    PEAK;  in 

character  which  at  ouce  strike  either  the  eye  or  the 
imagination. 

The  celebrity  of  the  Peak  is  in  the  worki  of  science, 
and  there  it  has  hardly  a  rival  among  the  hills  of 
New  England;  its  fame  however,  to  confess  the 
truth,  being  less  due  to  any  startling  wonders  of  its 
own  than  to  the  puzzling  geological  phenomena  of 
the  region  of  which  it  is  the  conspicuous  head  and 
centre.*  It  was  these,  together  with  its  superb  over- 
views, which  led  our  Scientific  Association  to  select 
Perry's  Peak  as  the  theater  for  their  celebration  of 
the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Alex- 
ander Yon  Humboldt.  Think  of  a  celebration  which 
extended  from  the  crowded  capitals  of  Europe  to 
the  lonely  mountain  tops  of  New  England.  When 
did  kingly  conqueror  have  glory  like  that  ? 

The  most  uniformly  delicious  week  in  the  Berk- 
shire year  is  the  second  in  S^tember.  "  Then,  if 
ever,  come  perfect  days."  And  the  day  of  our  anni- 
versary— the  fourteenth  of  the  month,  was  absolutely 
perfect.  The  universal  voice  proclaimed  it  entitled 
to  the  biggest  boulder  of  the  purest  quartz  on  Crystal 
Hill,  if  ever  day  deserved  to  be  "  marked  with  a 
white  stone." 

By  the  courtesy  of  the  occasion,  the  party  which 
ascended  the  mountain,  that  bright  September  day, 
was  presumed  to  be  an  intellectual  one,  but  it  required 
no  presumption  to  pronounce  it  a  glad  company, 
and  the  merriment  was  no  worse  for  the  attempt  to 
give  it  a  learned  flavor.  The  result,  whether  a  failure 
or  a  success  as  to  the  original  intention,  was  always 


112  •       TAGHCONIC. 

funny  enough  to  provoke  a  laugh  that  was  genuine, 
if  the  wit  was  not. 

Reaching  the  summit  we  assembled  on  a  spot 
marked  by  the  coast  survey,  as  20S9  feet  above  the 
sea  level.  All  around  us  the  bare  ledges  were  scored 
with  parallel  groovings  on  broadly  polished  surfaces 
and  bore  other  distinct  marks  of  glacial  action. 
Within  a  few  rods  were  strewn  those  wonderful 
boulders  whose  story  has  puzzled  so  many  learned 
heads.  •  And  there,  with  the  tumbled  ridges  of  four 
grand  mountain-chains  in  view,  and  the  purest  of 
sapphire  skies  over-hanging  all,  we  found  as  fitting 
a  spot  as  could  be  desired  to  commemorate  the  cen- 
tennial birthday  of  the  great  naturalist. 

The  formal  exercises  of  the  celebration,  if  they 
could  be  called  formal,  were  brief  and  simple.  Pro- 
fessor William  C.  Richards  —  poet,  orator  and 
naturalist  —  displayed  a  superb  photograph  of  Hum- 
boldt —  taken  at  Berlin  and  approved  by  its  subject — 
and,  with  a  brief  introduction,  read  an  appropriate 
ode  full  of  poetic  thought  and  feeling. 

Then,  after  an  inspection  of  the  evidences  of 
glacial  action  on  the  Peak,  we  betook  ourselves  to  a 
cool  and  pleasant  grove,  in  which  lay  one  of  the 
largest  of  the  famous  Richmond  boulders:  and  there, 
with  appetites  of  mountainous  proportions,  discussed 
our  pic-nic  dinner. 

While  thus  agreeably  engaged,  we  learned  that 
the  Peak  took  its  name  from  the  Rev.  David  Perry, 
who  owned  lands  here  and  elsewhere  in  the  town  of 
Richmond,  in   which   he   was   the  second  ministei 


perry's  peak.  113 

of  the  gospel.  Mr.  Perry  was  rather  a  liberal  as 
liberality  went  with  the  New  England  clergy  of  hie 
day:  that  is,  although  a  Federalist,  as  it  was  natural 
for  a  Massachusetts  Congregational  minister  to  be, 
he  kept  on  good  terms  with  his  clerical  brother  of 
the  next  town,  who  was  a  flaming  Democrat;  I  have 
no  doubt  that  he  could,  and  did  often,  dine  with  the 
only  Episcopalian  rector  in  the  county,  without  any 
conviction  of  a  neglect  of  duty  in  failing  to  smother 
him  in  his  own  popish  surplice.  Nevertheless,  I 
fancy  it  would  have  given  the  good  old  gentleman  a 
strange  sensation  could  he  have  dreamed  that  profane 
philosophers  would  come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth 
to  find,  in  his  own  personal  and  ecclesiastical  domain, 
evidence  that  the  world  was  no  more  made  in  six 
days  than  Rome  was  built  in  one;  and  I  do  not  know 
what  would  have  happened  to  him  had  he  foreseen 
that  one  of  his  own  descendants,  in  no  very  distant 
generation,  would  give  himself  to  conducting  a  news- 
paper so  devoted  to  the  fleeting  pleasures  of  this  life 
as  the  New  York  Home  Journal.  It  is  fortunate, 
after  all,  that  even  ministers  are  but  short-sighted 
mortals.  I  dare  say  that,  if  the  sainted  pastor  is  now 
able  to  look  down  and  see  all  that  has  come  about 
so  strangely,  he  regards  it  with  the  same  equanimity 
which  his  successors  in  office  manifest. 

The  dinner  over,  we  devoted  ourselves  to  the  more 
strictly  scientific  work  of  the  day,  first  listening  to 
the  story  of  the  boulders  from  the  lips  of  their  vene- 
rable discoverer.  But,  as  I  purpose  to  go  into  that 
story  somewhat  at  large,  I  will  make  it  the  subject 
of  another  section. 


vm. 

THE  RICHMOND  BOULDER  TRAINS. 

**  One  must  go  back  to  an  age  before  all  history ;  an  age 
which  cannot  be  measured  by  years  or  centuries;  an  age 
shrouded  in  mysteries  and  to  be  spoken  of  only  in  guesses. 
To  assert  anything  positively  concerning  that  age,  or  ages, 
would  be  to  show  the  rashness  of  ignorance.  *  I  think  that 
I  believe,'  '  I  have  good  reason  to  suspect,'  *  I  seem  to  see,'  are 
the  strongest  forms  of  speech  which  ought  to  be  used,  over  a 
matter  so  vast  and  as  yet  so  little  elaborated."  —  Kingdey's 
Idylls. 


TEN  MILLION  TEARS  AGO. 

It  may  have  been  only  one  million  years  ago  that 
the  events  I  am  to  speak  of  occurred;  but  I  put  it  at 
ten  to  cover  accidents.  It  may  have  been  less,  or 
perhaps  more;  the  record  is  not  so  precise  as  could 
be  wished  if  title  to  real  estate  depended  upon  it. 
But  for  our  present  purpose  the  *  vague  mea^surement 
of  the  unnumbered  eons  of  geology  gives  a  more  ade- 
quate conception  of  their  immensity  than  could  be 
obtained  from  the  most  definite  statement  in  num- 
bers, even  if  we  knew  it  to  be  exact:  the  mind  is  so 
apt  to  fancy  it  has  a  full  appreciation  of  such  a 
statement  whereas  it  really  has  not  the  slightest. 

Let  me  give  you  a  general  outline  of  the  physical 


THE    RICHMOND    BOULDER    TRAINS.  115 

geography  of  our  hills  as  described  by  Dr.  Palfrey 
in  his  History  of  New  England,  on  the  authority  of 
Professor  Guyot. 

"  Only  moderate  elevations  present  themselves  along  the 
greater  part  of  the  New  England  coast.  Inland  the  great 
topographical  feature  is  a  double  belt  of  highlands,  separated 
almost  to  their  bases  by  the  deep  and  broad  valley  of  the  Con. 
necticut  River,  and  running  parallel  to  each  other,  from  the 
south-south-west  to  the  north-north-east,till,  around  the  sources 
of  that  river,  they  unite  'in  a  wide  space  of  table  land,  from 
which  streams  descend  in  diflPerent  directions." 

"  To  regard  these  highlands,  which  form  so  important  a 
feature  in  New  England  geography,  as  simply  two  ranges  of 
hills,  would  not  be  to  conceive  of  them  aright.  They  are  vast 
swells  of  land,  of  an  average  elevation  of  a  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  each  with  a  width  of  forty  or  fifty  miles, 
from  which  asfrom  a  base,  mountains  rise  in  chains  or  isolated 
groups  to  an  altitude  of  several  thousand  feet  more." 

•'In  structure  the  two  belts  are  unlike.  The  western 
system,  which  bears  the  general  name  of  the  Green  Mountains, 
is  composed  of  two  principal  chains  [the  Taghconics,  or 
Taconics,  on  the  east,  the  Hoosacs  on  the  west],  more  or  less 
continuous,  covered,  like  several  shorter  ones  which  run  along 
them,  with  the  forests  and  herbage  to  which  they  owe  their 
name.  Between  these,  a  longitudinal  valley  can  be  traced, 
though  with  some  interruptions,  from  Connecticut  to  Northern 
Vermont.  In  Massachusetts  and  Connecticut,  it  is  marked  by 
the  Housatonic  [and  the  Hoosack] ;  in  Vermont  by  the  rich 
basins  which  hold  the  villages  of  Bennington,  Manchester  and 
Rutland,  and  farther  on  by  valleys  of  less  note.     *    *     * 

"  The  mountains  have  a  regular  increase  from  south  to 
north.  From  a  height  of  less  than  a  thousand  feet  in  Con- 
necticut, they  rise  to  an  average  of  twenty-five  hundred  feet 
in  Massachusetts,  where  the  majestic  Qfeylock,  isolated  be- 
tween the  two  chains,  lifts  its  head  to  the  stature  of  thirty-five 
hundred  feet.     In  Vermont,  Equinox  and  Stratton  Mountains 


116  TAGHCONIC. 

near  Manchester  are  thirty-Be ven  hundred  feet ;  Killington 
Peak,  near  Rutland,  rises  forty-two  hundred  feet ;  Mansfield 
Mountain,  at  the  northern  extremity,  overtops  the  rest  of  the 
Green-Mountain  range  with  an  altitude  of  forty-four  hundred 
feet. 

"  The  rise  of  the  valley  is  less  regular.  In  Connecticut  its 
bottom  is  from  five  hundred  to  seven  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea.  In  Southern  Berkshire  it  is  eight  hundred 
feet ;  it  rises  thence  two  hundred  feet  to  Pittsfield,  and  one 
hundred  more  to  the  foot  of  Greylock  ;  whence  it  declines  to 
the  bed  of  the  Housa tonic  in  one  direction  and  to  an  average 
height  of  little  more  than  five  hundred  feet  in  Vermont  on  the 
other.  Thus  it  is  in  Berkshire  county  that  the  western  swell 
presents,  if  not  the  most  elevated  peaks,  yet  the  most  compact 
and  elevated  structure." 

Besides  the  shorter  ranges,  mentioned  by  Dr. 
Palfrey  as  lying  along  the  Taconics  and  Hoosacs,  the 
Berkshire  valley  is  everywhere  broken  by  spurs  from 
the  main  chains  and  by  hills,  often  of  magnitude. 
The  mass  of  up-tumblings  and  down-pullings  which 
meets  the  eye  that  looks  down  upon  it  from  some 
elevated  point,  is  a  marvel  and  a  joy  to  the  geologist. 
We  have  locally  been  accustomed  to  regard  the  un- 
derlying rocks  —  chiefly  mica  schists  of  different 
grades,  crystaline  limestones,  quartzite  and  green- 
stone —  as  belonging  to  the  very  earliest  formations. 

Thirty  or  forty  years  ago.  Professor  Emmons 
maintained  a  hard  fight  against  cruel  odds,  to  es- 
tablish that  theory,  and  we  fancied  his  victory  com- 
plete. But  now  comes  a  newer,  and  very  high,  au- 
thority, Professor  Dana,  and  relying  upon  the  evidence 
of  certain  Yermont  fossils,  denies  to  our  rocks  any 


THE   RICHMOND    BOULDER   TRAINS.  117 

antiquity  greater  than  the  earliest  period  of  the  older 
Silurian  epoch;  not  much,  if  at  all,  more  than  a  hun- 
dred million  years:  and  that  likely  to  be  fearfully 
cut  down  if  certain  still  later  theorists  upon  the  ages 
prevail. 

I  suppose  I  shall  be  told  that  we  must  submit  to 
be  thus  deposed  from  our  high  estate  and  ranked 
among  comparative  parvenues;  mere  rocks  of  the 
second  order.     But 

"On  wliat  compulsion  must  we?  Tell  me  that." 

The  newest  geologist  is  only  infallible,  while  he  is 
the  newest ;  an  arrant  brevity.  Kever,  within  all  the 
borders  of  Berkshire,  in  schist  or  quartz,  in  marble  or 
greenstone,  in  dyke  or  bed-rock,  ice-ground  gravel  or 
unburied  boulder,  was  there  ever  found  the  slightest 
trace  of  organic  forms,  animal  or  vegetable:  and 
shall  our  pure  azoic  rocks  be  robbed  of  their  virgin 
fame  because  the  Rev.  Augustus  Wing  has  detected 
the  slip  of  a  frail  distant  relative  up  in  Vermont,  a 
hundred  million  years  ago  ?  Worse  accidents  than 
til  at  happen  in  the  most  primitive  families. 

To  be  sure,  our  rocks  have  been  greatly  meta 
niorphosed,  and  there  is  indisjiutable  evidence  of 
violent  heat  in  their  impressible  youth;  but  does  thai 
])rove  that  their  metamorphoses  were  like  Ovid's  : 
My  Berkshire  blood  is  up,  and,  if  I  were  younger,  ] 
would  myself  ride  a  geological  tilt  in  their  defense 
as  it  is,  I  summon  some  youthful  champion  to  put  ol 
his  armor  of  proof,  and  try  a  joust  ^ith  this  renownecl 
knight  of  the  hammer.  Let  him  show  that  oar  old 
mountain  ridges  are  the  very  "bones  of  time;"  not 


118  TAGHCONIC. 

fossil  bones  by  any  means,  but  the  veritable  rock- 
ribs  of  mother  earth.  But,  until  such  champion  shall 
appear,  we  will,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  and  in  sub- 
mission to  the  geologic  ruler  of  the  hour,  admit  that 
we  are  only  Silurians.  It  might  have  been  worse; 
for,  after  all,  the  Welsh  is  a  good  old  stock. 

At  any  rate,  the  rocks  are  there  in  very  palpable 
mountains.  Azoic  or  Silurian  as  you  please;  and  they 
are  covered  far  up  their  sides,  if  not  to  their  very 
summits,  by  immense  deposits  of  drift,  composed  of 
rounded  and  rolled  fragments  of  all  sizes  from  the 
huge  boulder  to  the  finest  sand.  The  same  drift 
covers  the  valley  ;  stones  of  all  sizes  and  of  every 
variety  which  could  be  torn  from  the  neighboring 
hills,  being  jumbled  together  in  utter  confusion  as 
to  size,  the  largest  often  being  at  the  top;  as  you 
may  see  finely  exemplified  on  Jubilee  Hill  in  Pitts- 
field  and  elsewhere.  But,  with  regard  to  the  pre- 
vailing rocks  which  compose  it,  the  position  in  which 
they  lie,  and  in  other  particulars,  you  will  find  the 
drift  of  different  localities  marked  by  distinct  indi- 
vidual characteristics.  Even  in  regard  to  size,  con- 
fusion is  not  absolutely  universal :  you  will  find  many 
gravel  beds  beautifully  strati^.ed  in  this  respect:  but, 
as  compared  with  the  great  mass  of  drift,  these  are 
exceptional.  These  queerly  tumbled  beds  and  piles 
of  drift  afford  an  altogether  curious  study;  and  one 
in  which  there  are  few  adepts.  I  commend  it  to  you 
as  a  summer  recreation  on  the  whole  preferable  to 
trouting;  although,  if  you  persist  in  gratifying  your 


THE    EICHMOXD    BOULDER    TRAINS.  119 

murderous  propensities,  you  may  pleasantly  com- 
bine the  two. 

Scattered  all  over  this  loose,  stony  formation, 
which  clothes  the  rocks  of  hill  and  valley  as  muscles 
clothe  bones,  is  still  another  deposit  of  boulders, 
generally  of  considerable  size  and  often  very  large. 
They  are  easily  distinguished  from  the  underlying 
drift;  not  being,  like  it,  either  buried,  smoothed  or 
rounded,  but  exposed,  rough  and  angular,  except 
when  sometimes,  their  upper  surface  is  worn  to  a 
rude  dome  shape.  Neither  the  boulders  or  the  drift 
are  at  all  peculiar  to  Berkshire.  Similar  formations 
cover  a  large  portion  of  the  Northern  hemisphere. 
The  phenomenon  which  has  drawn  hither  so  many 
eminent  geologists  is  the  occasional  arrangement  of 
the  exposed  boulders  in  well-defined  trains;  which 
is  exceptional,  if  not  unique,  so  far  as  observations 
have  been  made  and  published. 

These  remarkable  trains  were  discovered,  about 
the  year  1840,  by  Dr.  Stephen  Reed,  who,  as  Pre- 
sident of  our  Scientific  Association,  led  our  field- 
meeting  on  Perry's  Peak.  When  the  feast  was  over, 
that  day,  and  we  had  fraternized  with  our  genial 
and  hospitable  Richmond  hosts,  we  listened  to  local 
story,  told  by  venerable  speakers  from  Lenox  and 
Stockbridge,  concerning  Parson  Perry,  the  second 
minister,  and  his  parishioner,  Col.  Rossiter,  who,  as 
second  in  command  of  the  Berkshire  militia  at  the 
Battle  of  Bennington,  did  good  service;  recalling  his 
men  from  plundering  to  fighting,  and  thereby  saving 


120  TAGHCONIC. 

the  day  which  was  well  nigh  lost  after  it  had  been 
once  won. 

When  we  had  thus  done  due  honor  to  some  of  the 
old-time  local  worthies,  our  venerable  president  — 
who  might  well  have  served  the  most  fastidious 
painter  as  a  model  for  "  an  old  geologist "  —  told  the 
story  of  his  discovery,  illustrating  his  method  very 
simply.  "  If,"  said  he  "  you  should  see  a  cart  loaded 
with  apples  of  a  peculiar  variety,  which,  dropping 
from  a  leaky  tail-board,  were  strewn  all  the  way 
back  to  a  certain  orchard  which  alone  bore  that 
kind  of  fruit,  you  would  have  no  difficulty  in  deter- 
mining where  that  apple  train  came  from." 

By  a  similar  process  it  is  easy  to  trace  the  princi- 
pal, and  most  perfect,  of  the  Richmond  Boulder 
Trains  to  its  source;  since  it  is  an  exceedingly  well 
defined  and  nearly  continuous  succession  of  large 
angular  masses  of  a  peculiar  chloritic  schist,  wholly 
unlike  the  general  bed-rocks  of  the  vicinity,  and  also 
differing  totally  from  most  of  the  neighboring 
boulders. 

Following  up  this  train.  Dr.  Reed  found  it  termi- 
nate, three  miles  north-west  of  the  Richmond  meet- 
ing-house, on  the  summit  of  Fry's  Hill,  the  highest, 
and  almost  the  central  point  of  the  Canaan  Mountains 
in  Columbia  county,  N.  Y. ;  one  of  the  short  ranges 
which  run  along  the  Taconics.  The  top  of  this  hill 
is  composed  of  a  chloritic  schist,  precisely  like  that 
of  the  boulders,  and  unlike  any  other  bed-rock  in  all 
that  region.  Of  course  no  doubt  remained  of  the 
source  of  that  train,  and  its  discoverer,  retracing  his 


THE   EICHMOND   BOULDER  TRAINS.  121 

steps,  continued  his  investigations  until  he  had 
followed  it  in  the  opposite  direction  across  the  towns 
of  Richmond,  Lenox  and  Lee,  some  ten  or  twelve 
miles  in  all.  He  believed  that  it  reached  still  further, 
and  perhaps  even  to  Connecticut.  I  think  he  after- 
wards obtained  some  evidence  that  this  supposition 
was  correct,  but  of  how  conclusive  a  nature  I  cannot 
say.  Subsequently  he  found  another  train  of  the 
chloritic  schist,  originating,  like  the  first,  on  the 
Canaan  Mountains,  and  five  of  limestone  derived 
from  the  Taconic  range;  but  none  so  complete  as 
the  first. 

In  1842,  Dr.  Reed  published  an  account  of  his 
discovery  in  the  "Lenox  Farmer,"  predicting  for 
the  boulders  a  host  of  distinguished  visitors  and  a 
wide  fame;  a  prophecy  which  has  been  amply  veri- 
fied; for  during  his  life  he  piloted  among  them, 
Dr.  Birney  of  Boston,  Professors  Chester  Dewey, 
Hitchcock,  Hosford,  Hall  and  the  Brothers  Rogers, 
Sir  Charles  Lyell,  Count  Pourtales,  and  Professor 
De  Saurre. 

Dr.  Reed,  in  his  first  paper  at  least,  contented 
himself  with  simply  describing  the  boulder  train. 
The  apple-cart  by  which  it  was  strewn  had  long 
disappeared,  and  he  did  not  attempt  to  restore  it 
from  his  imaginings,  doubtless  knowing  full  well 
that,  if  he  did,  the  next  geologist  who  came  along 
would  make  it  his  first  business  to  upset  it. 

Some  of  his  visitors,  however,  were  not  so  discreet, 
and  the  result  has  been  a  dozen  or  more  learned 
11 


122  TAGHCONIC. 

essays,  ot  which  the  most  interesting  are  those  of 
Sir  Charles  Lyell  and  Rev.  John  B.  Perry. 

Lyell  in  his  "  Antiquity  of  Man,"  gives  a  spirited 
account  of  his  visit  and  a  graphic  description  of  the 
rocks,  making  some  very  fascinating  reading.  His . 
theory,  to  use  the  condensation  of  another,  is  that 
"  at  the  time  of  the  drift  period,  the  highest  points 
of  the  Canaan,  Richmond  and  Lenox  ranges  formed 
chains  of  islands  in  an  ocean;  and  that  the  gaps  in 
the  Richmond  an*d  Lenox  ranges  were  straits  through 
which  floated  ice-bergs  bearing,  the  chloritic  blocks 
from  the  exposed  parts  of  the  Canaan  range,  and 
dropping  them  in  their  present  positions."  So 
strongly  -did  this  notion  impress  itself  upon  Sir 
Charles,  that  he  illustrated  his  work  with  a  view  of 
the  islands,  and  the  rock-laden  ice-floes  —  not  ice- 
bergs —  floating  between  them.  He  has  also  given 
views  of  some  of  the  larger  boulders,  and  a  diagram 
of  the  seven  trains. 

Mr.  Perry  "  divides  the  boulders  which  rest  upon 
the  surface  of  the  drift  into  two  classes,  according  as 
they  are  rounded  or  angular:  those  which  make  up 
the  trains  being  rounded,  while  the  angular  are 
distributed  without  definite  arrangement.  He  con- 
siders that  the  trains  owe  their  formation  to  the  move- 
ment of  the  general  ice-mass  which  rested  upon  the 
region  during  the  glacial  period;  the  boulders,  which 
are  found  in  trains;  and  which  he  believes  to  be 
rounded  [dome-topped  ?  ]  having  been  torn  from  pro- 
minent peaks,  and  forced  along  under  the  ice-sheet, 
while  the  scattered  ones  were  transported  to  their 


THE    RICHMOND    BOULDER    TRAINS.  l--i 

present  position  much  later,  when  the  ice-mass  had 
become  so  much  reduced  in  thickness  that  the  peaks  in 
question  projected  above  the  surface,  so  that  masses  of 
rock  could  be  lodged  upon  the  ice  as  well  as  dragged 
along  under  it. 

Since  Dr.  Reed's  death,  which  occurred  in  1SV6, 
Mr.  E.  R.  Benton,  of  Boston  has  made  an  exhaustive 
survey  of  the  locality  of  the  boulders  and  a  thorough 
study  of  their  phenomena,  and  has  published  the 
result  in  a  pamphlet  of  forty-two  pages,  forming 
Kumber  Three  of  the  Fifth  Volume  of  the  Bulletin 
of  the  Harvard  College  Museum  of  Comparative 
zoology.  Odd,  is  it  not,  that  of  the  three  best 
treatises  upon  these  rocks  —  which,  however  we  may 
class  them,  show  not  the  slightest  vestige  of  animal 
or  vegetable  life  —  one  should  be  found  in  a  work 
upon  the  antiquity  of  man,  and  another  in  a  bulletin 
of  zoology  ?  Is  then  the  absence  of  life  the  com- 
plement of  its  presence,  as  well  before  as  after  its 
existence  upon  this  earth  ? 

But,  wherever  we  may  find  Mr.  Benton's  paper,  let 
us  be  thankful  for  it:  for  it  is  the  most  complete, 
satisfactory  and  philosophical  essay  upon  its  subject, 
which  we  have,  or  are  likely  to  have,  unless  he  him- 
self pursues  it  further. 

Having  given  a  concise  resume  of  the  statements 
and  opinions  of  his  predecessors,  Mr.  Benton  pro- 
ceeds to  a  geological  and  topographical  description 
of  the  Boulder  Region,  which  is  illustrated  by  maps 
showing  the  contours  of  the  hills,  their  bed  rocks  and 


124  TAGHCONIC. 

the  course  of  the  trains.  I  condense  his  description 
of  the  principal  and  best  defined  train. 

The  crest  of  Fry's  Hill  in  the  town  of  Canaan,  has 
an  elevation  of  six  hundred  and  twenty  feet  above  the 
track  of  the  Boston  and  Albany  railroad  in  Rich- 
mond, which  is  one  thousand  and  fifty  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea.  This  crest,  extending  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  down  from  its  summit,  is  composed  of 
a  fine-grained  foliaceous  mica  chloritic  schist,  very 
tough  and  of  a  green  color.  It  is  identical  with  the 
boulders  of  the  main  train,  is  of  narrow  extent  here, 
and  has  been  found,  in  place,  in  only  one  other  locality 
on  the  range.  To  its  limited  extent  Mr.  Benton  attri- 
butes the  distinctness  of  the  train,  whose  width  varies 
from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  five  hundred  feet;  the 
difference  being  caused  apparently  by  the  varying 
contours  of  the  hills  in  its  path. 

From  the  summit  of  Fry's  Hill  the  train  descends 
in  a  south  54°  east  direction;  then  bends  gradually 
to  the  southward  till,  at  the  base  of  the  range,  it 
has  a  south  27°  east  direction.  Thence  it  extends 
just  south  of  the  North  Family  of  the  Shakers,  and 
up  the  face  and  along  the  crest  of  a  westerly  spur 
of  the  Richmond  range,  called  Merriman's  Mount, 
to  the  crest  of  the  western  branch  of  the  range. 
In  so  doing  it  gradually  changes  its  direction,  to 
south  68°  east;  and  so  crosses  the  Haskell  valley  and 
begins  the  descent  of  the  Richmond  range.  In 
making  this  descent,  it  bends  considerably  to  the 
south,  crossing  the  main  road  in  Richmond  two 
miles  north  of  the  railroad  station,  till  it  attains  a 


THE   RICHMOND    BOULDER  TRAINS.  125 

Bouth  25^  east  direction,  where  it  crosses  the  railroad. 
From  the  railroad  the  train  continues  on  across  the 
Richmond  valley,  but  curves  to  the  eastward  as  it 
mounts  the  western  slope  of  the  Lenox  range 
crosses  its  two  parallel  ridges  and  descends  into  the 
Lenox  and  Stockbridge  valley,  where  its  direction  is 
south  50°  east.  A  half  a  mile  south-east  of  Mr. 
Luther  Butler's  house,  near  the  Lenox  and  Stock- 
bridge  line,  the  train  seems  to  lose  its  continuous 
character;  the  chloritic  schist  boulders  in  the  same 
line,  to  the  south-east,  being  few,  small,  and  widely 
separated. 

Far  the  largest  boulders  of  the  train,  averaging 
fifteen  feet  in  length  —  are  found  on  the  eastern 
slope  of  the  Canaan  range;  two  of  them  measuring 
ninety  and  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  in  cir- 
cumference respectively,  and  being  about  thirty  feet 
in  hight.  On  the  western  slope  of  this  range  there 
are  no  chloritic  schist  boulders.  Near  the  Lebanon 
Shakers  they  average  twelve  feet  in  length;  one 
having  a  circumference  of  seventy-five  feet.  Lyell 
mentions  two  with  circumferences  of  seventy  and 
one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  respectively,  and  a 
hight  of  twenty  feet  above  the  soil,  lying  two  miles 
north  of  Richmond  station.  Thence  there  is  a  con- 
stant diminution  in  size  until,  in  the  Lenox  and 
Stockbridge  valley,  the  average  length  does  not  ex- 
veed  two  feet. 

By  the  Richmond  range,  Mr.  Benton  means  that 
portion  of  the  Taconic  Mountains  which  lies  in 
Richmond  and  the  adjoining  town  of  Canaan  on  the 


126  lAGHCONIC. 

west;  and  is  separated  by  a  narrow  valley  from  the 
Canaan  or  Columbia  range.  Fry's  Hill  is  two  and 
lialf  miles  south  of  Douglas  Knob,  the  picturesque 
elevation  which  almost  overhangs  Columbia  Hall, 
and  forms  the  northern  terminus  of  the  range. 

The  Lenox  range  is  a  spur  thrown  off  by  the 
Taconics  at  Egremont, which,  broken  by  the  Williams 
River  at  West  Stockbridge,  extends  north=eastward 
to  Pittsfield,  where  it  terminates  in  South  Mountain 
and  Melville  Hill.  Its  domes  and  peaks  form  some 
of  the  most  striking  and  beautiful  features  in  the 
views,  looking  north  from  the  Lenox,  and  south  from 
the  Pittsfield  valley;  while  its  southern  extension, 
reaching  to  Stockbridge,  is  filled  with  the  most  de- 
licious scenery. 

But  to  return  to  the  Boulder  trains;  Mr.  Benton 
examined  three  others,  all  less  continuous  and  com- 
posed of  smaller  blocks  than  the  first;  but  he  failed 
to  find  the  chloritic  schists,  in  place,  upon  the 
points  in  the  Canaan  range  to  which  they  led,  and 
this,  as  well  as  the  imperfection  in  the  trains,  he 
attributed  to  the  early  exhaustion  of  the  knobs  of 
this  rock  which  formerly  crested  this  ridge  at  in- 
tervals, but  were  of  inferior  thickness  to  that  on  the 
summit  of  Fry's  Hill. 

He  speaks  generally  of  certain  other  curious  but 
promiscuously  scattered  boulders,  and  of  limestone 
trains;  but  appears  to  have  been  discouraged  as  to 
the  latter  by  the  inaccuracies  of  previous  writers. 
All  the  three  ranges  mentioned  exhibit  marks  of 
ghicial  action  wherever  their  beds  are  exposed;  but 


THE    RICHMOND    BOULDER    TRAINS.  127 

none  of  them  send  out  trains  of  boulders  except  the 
Canaan,  as  few  others  anywhere  do.  The  explana- 
tion is  found  in  the  sharpness  and  narrow  limits  of 
Fry's  Hill,  and  of  the  other,  now  obliterated,  knobs 
of  chloritic  schist,  in  which  the  trains,  undoubtedly 
had  their  origin. 

In  accountiiig  for  the  transportation  of  the  boul- 
ders to  the  positions  in  wh'ch  they  are  now  found, 
Mr.  Benton  discards  Lyell's  theory  of  floating  ice, 
since  it  implies  that,  during  the  period  in  which  they 
were  deposited,  the  level  of  the  ocean  stood  above 
the  crest  of  the  Canaan  range,  or  sixteen  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  higher  than  it  now  does.  Other 
writers  have  shown  that  the  same  line  of  reasoning 
which  leads  to  Lyell's  conclusions  would  require  a 
depression  of  parts  of  the  glaciated  region  to  a 
depth  of  five  thousand  feet  below  their  present 
level:  a  depression  which  all  the  evidence  indicates 
did  not  exist. 

Mr.  Benton's  own  solution  of  the  problem  is 
based  upon  the  fact,  now  generally  admitted  by 
geologists,  that  in  the  Post-Pliocene  age,  this 
region,  in  common  with  a  large  part  of  the  northern 
hemisphere,  was  covered  with  an  ice-sheet  several 
thousand  feet  thick,  which  had  a  slow  motion  in 
this  district  from  the  north-west  to  the  south-east. 
But  he  shows  that  the  boulders  could  not  have 
rested,  and  been  borne  along,  upon  the  upper  sur- 
face of  this  ice-sheet;  since  that  pre-supposes  cliffs 
upon  the  Canaan  range  which  towered  above  that 
surface,    whereas   an   ice-sheet    which   could  move 


128  TAGHCONIC. 

across  valleys  six  hundred  feet  deep,  without  being 
materially  deflected  from  its  course,  must  have 
covered  the  highest  land  to  the  depth  of  many  hun- 
dred feet.  Nor  could  the  boulders  have  been  dragged 
along  under  the  ice-mass,  without  leaving  marks  of 
abrasion  of  which  none  are  to  be  seen. 

It  is  probable,  he  thinks,  that  the  boulders  were 
torn  from  their  original  bed  by  the  ice  sheet,  and 
became  imbedded  in  its  mass  instead  of  being  dragged 
along  under  it.  The  sharpness  of  the  knob  called 
Fry's  Hill  favors  this  supposition,  since  boulders  torn 
from  its  upper  part  would  be  at  least  one  hundred 
feet  above  the  lower  surface  of  the  ice  along  the 
neighboring  parts  of  the  crest;  and  the  mass,  closing 
again  as  soon  as  it  had  passed  the  sharp  knob,  would 
hold  many  of  them  firmly  in  its  grasp,  without  al- 
lowing them  to  reach  the  rocks  below,  until  the  ice- 
sheet  had  ceased  its  grinding  march  and  was  in 
process  of  dissolution.  Nevertheless,  under  the  in- 
cessant influence  of  gravity,  the  imbedded  fragments 
would  be  constantly  working  their  way  downward, 
and  many  of  them,  finally  reaching  the  under  surface, 
would  be  ground  up  by  the  crunching,  superincum- 
bent, moving  mass;  and  the  farther  from  the  source, 
the  greater  would  be  the  amount  of  material  lost  to 
the  trains,  and  added  to  the  underlying  gravel  beds. 

In  condensing  a  portion  of  Mr.  Benton's  essay,  I 
have  occasionally  departed  from  the  order  of  arrange- 
ment pursued  by  him,  and  have  interpolated,  now 
and  then,  matter  of  my  own,  but  I  believe  that  I  have 
given  correctly  the  facts  and  theories  presented  by 


THE    RICHMOND    BOULDER    TRAINS.  129 

him,  so  far  as  I  have  attempted  to  give  them  at  all; 
often  using  his  own  language.  But  he  enters  much 
more  into  detail  than  it  would  be  possible  or  proper 
for  me  to  do  here,  and  touches  upon  some  allied  topics 
to  which  I  have  not  even  alluded.  His  pamphlet 
should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  student  of  the  boulder 
phenomena,  or  of  the  superficial  geology  of  this 
locality. 

The  boulder  and  drift  deposits  in  the  valley  at  the 
base  of  the  Taconics,  north  of  Richmond,  offer  a 
fresh  and  interesting  field  of  investigation.  At 
some  points  there  are  indications  of  arrangement  in 
trains;  but,  whether  or  not  if  followed  up  those  in- 
dications should  lead  to  discoveries  of  that  character, 
they  could  not  fail  of  valuable  and  curious  results. 
Some  of  the  local  deposits  of  boulders  are  strikingly 
suggestive.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the  Balanced 
Rock  group.  In  the  romantic  town  of  New  Marlboro', 
next  east  of  Great  Ban'ington,  is  another  rocking 
stone,  quite  as  firmly  based,  and  with  a  more  pro- 
nounced and  easy  oscillation.  Between  Onota  street 
and  Lake  Onota,  in  Pittsfield,  some  most  singular 
boulders  are  strewn.  One  variety  is  composed  of 
what  appears  upon  the  surface  to  be  a  net  work,  but 
in  reality  is  a  honey  comb,  of  quartz  cells  filled 
with  a  hard  schist.  Sometimes  cells,  which  were 
probably  filled  with  a  softer  rock,  are  empty,  leavmg 
a  skeleton  of  quartz  walls.  Another  variety  of  soft 
rock  encloses  rounded  pebbles  sometimes  six  or 
eight  inches  long.  I  think  some  summer  or  autumn 
days  could   be  pleasantly   passed   in   tracing  these 


130  TAGHCONIC. 

queer  erratics  to  their  source,  and  trying  to  imagine 
how  they  were  made;  and  when;  and  why. 

I  fear  I  may  have  wearied  some  of  you  by  dwell- 
ing so  long  upon  a  theme  in  which  you  perhaps  take 
small  interest.  But,  when  you  think  of  it,  is  it  not 
after  all  a  wondrous  thing  ?  As  strange  as  any  martel 
of  the  genii  and,  at  the  same  time,  if  we  can  rightly 
read  it,  telling  a  tale  as  true  as  Holy  Writ.  If  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  could  properly  call  the  moor-logs 
and  fir  trees  found  under  ground  in  many  parts  of 
England,  "the  undated  ruins  of  winds,  floods  and 
earthquakes,"  of  what  are  these  Berkshire  boulders 
the  ruins;  and  where  is  their  date  recorded? 

And  now,  one  word  more;  that  I  may  have  the 
credit  of,  for  once,  closing  a  story  with  a  sound  moral 
lesson.  The  study  of  these  rocks  will  aid  you  in  the 
clear  and  conscious  recognition  of  a  truth,  which  I 
dare  say  you  know  already,  but  perhaps  only  in  a 
dreamy,  unthinking  way.  It  is  this,  that  in  those 
immeasurable  ages,  matter  was  composed  of  the  same 
elements  and  obeyed  implicitly  the  same  laws,  which 
at  this  moment  compose  and  govern  it,  both  on  this 
little  spot  of  earth  and  in  the  illimitable  heavens. 
Whether  there  were  intelligent  eyes  to  watch  them 
or  not,  rising  and  setting  suns  measured  the  days; 
and,  if  not  here,  by  reason  of  cold,  yet  at  our  anti- 
podes, the  procession  of  the  Seasons  marked  the 
coming  and  the  going  of  the  year.  For  as  yet  we 
have  only  begun  to  approach  that  epoch,  when  science 
and  revelation  alike  require  us  to  believe  that  the 
earth  was  without  form  a^nd  void,  and  darkness  was 
upon  the  face  of  the  deep. 


IX. 

THE  WIZARD'S  GLEN. 


Eight  well  I  wote,  most  miglity  soveraine, 

That  all  this  famous  antique  historie 

Of  some  the  abundance  of  an  ydle  braine 

Will  judged  be,  and  painted  forgerie. 

Rather  than  matter  of  just  memorie.    Fairie  Queene. 

A  four  miles'  drive  from  our  \nllage  brings  the  ex- 
cursionist to  a  deep  gorge,  now  called  the  "  Gulf," 
but  known  in  the  earlier  and  less  sceptical  days  of 
the  settlement  as  the  "Wizard's  Glen."  It  is  the 
wildest  scene  in  our  immediate  neighborhood.  A 
narrow  valley  is  enclosed  by  steep  hills,  covered  far 
up  their  sides  with  the  huge  rectangular  flint  rocks 
which  mark  this  whole  mountain  range.  You  see 
them  scattered  everywhere,  from  Greylock  to  Tagh- 
conic;  but  nowhere  else  —  unless,  perhaps,  at  Icy 
Glen  or  Monument  Mountain  —  piled  up  in  such 
magnificent  and  chaotic  profusion.  It  is  as  though 
an  angry  Jove  had  here  thrown  down  some  impious 
wall  of  the  Heaven-defying  Titans.  Block  lies  heaped 
upon  block,  squared  and  bevelled,  as  if  by  more  than 
mortal  art;  for  of  such  adamantine  hardness  are  they 
that  never  hand  nor  implement  of  man  could  carve 
them  into  symmetry. 


132  TAGHCONIC. 

In  their  desolation  they  seemed  charmed  to  ever- 
lasting changelessness;  storm  and  sunshine  leave  fe^v 
traces  upon  them;  the  trickling  stream  wears  no 
channel  in  their  obdurate  surface;  only  a  falling 
thunderbolt  sometimes  splinters  an  uplifted  crag,  and 
marks  its  course  by  a  scar  of  more  livid  whiteness. 
No  flower  springs  from,  no  creeping  plant  clings  to, 
them  for  support,  save  when  the  rare  Herb  Robert 
would  fain  cheer  them  with  his  tiny  blossom;  or 
some  starveling  lichen  strives  to  shroud  the  livid 
ghastliness  of  their  hues. 

It  is  a  stern-featured  place;  and  yet  of  a  warm 
summer  afternoon,  one  —  no,  not  one,  it  is  too  in- 
tensely sombre  for  that  —  but  a  party  can  pass  a 
merry  hour  there,  in  the  cool  depths  of  the  ravine. 
There  are  some  books  too,  written  in  a  spirit  akin  to 
the  fantastic  and  demoniac  grandeur  of  the  place, 
which  can  be  read  there  with  a  double  zest.  Perched 
in  the  angle  of  a  cleft  boulder,  I  once  keenly  en- 
joyed some  scenes  in  "Faust."  "Manfred"  would 
not  be  out  of  place  there,  nor  would  some  parts  of 
"  Festus." 

But  the  best  is,  to  mark  how  the  most  humanly 
merry  laughter  and  the  gentlest  of  gentle  voices 
catch  a  fiendish  echo  from  the  rocky  hollows.  There  is 
diablerie  in  the  very  air;  the  fairest  form  I  ever  knew, 
as  it  rose  from  behind  one  of  those  enchanted  rocks, 
looked  weird  as  Lilith,  the  first  wife  of  Adam.  He- 
cate herself  could  not  have  emerged  from  Hades 
with  half  the  infernal  grace  and  beauty;  I  am  sure 
the  place  is  bewitched. 


133 

Tradition  indeed  says  that,  before  the  decay  of 
the  native  tribes  —  of  whom  a  scanty  remnant  were 
found  by  the  white  man  in  the  valley  of  the  Housa- 
tonic  —  this  used  to  be  a  favorite  haunt  of  the 
Indian  priests,  or  wizards.  Here,  it  was  said,  they 
wrought  their  hellish  incantations,  and  with  horrible 
rites  offered  up  human  sacrifices  to  Ho-bo-mo-ko, 
the  Spirit  of  Evil.  One  broad,  square  rock,  which 
chanced  to  stand  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  conveniently 
clear  space,  had  the  credit  of  being  the  Devil's  altar- 
stone.  Some  crimson  stains  marked  its  upper  surface, 
upon  which  the  earlier  settlers  could  not  look  with- 
out a  shudder.  They  were  believed  to  come  from 
the  blood  of  frequent  victims  —  although,  now-a- 
days,  a  sceptic  with  no  analysis  at  all  would  find 
little  difficulty  in  resolving  them  into  "  traces  of 
iron  ore."  For  my  part,  until  the  analysis  is  made, 
I  hold  fast  to  the  older  and  better  opinion  of  those 
who  believed  that  around  this  ensanguined  shrine  a 
spectral  crew  of  savage  wizards  nightly  reenacted 
the  revolting  orgies  of  the  past. 

I  met,  not  long  since,  an  old  man  of  ninety 
winters  —  perhaps  the  last  believer  in  their  super- 
stitions. He  had  heard  the  story  of  the  shadowy- 
sacrifices  from  an  eye-witness,  and  related  it  with  a 
credulous  simplicity  very  difficult  to  gainsay. 

Not  far  from  the  year  17V0  (as  he  said),  one  John 

Chamberlain,  a  brave  man  and  a  mighty  hunter,  of 

Ashuelot  (now  Dalton),  at  the  close  of  a  hard  day's 

chase,  overtook  and  slew  a   deer,  somewhere  within 

12 


134  TAGHCONIC. 

the  Wizard's  Glen.  While  he  was  dressing  his 
quarry,  a  terrific  storm  of  thunder,  lightning,  and 
hail  arose  —  as  Chamberlain  averred,  with  superna- 
tural celerity,  as  such  often  seem  to  do  among  the 
mountains.  A  thunder-storm,  even  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  nature,  is  not  just  the  thing  to  be  coveted 
in  this  place,  by  the  hardiest  deer-slayer;  but  come 
what  will  deer-slayers  -must  make  the  best  of  it. 
Seeking  out,  therefore,  a  spot  where  the  rocks  were 
piled  one  upon  another,  with  cavernous  recesses  that 
formed  a  sort  of  natural  caravansary  beneath,  he 
drew  his  deer  under  one  boulder  and  ensconced  him- 
self snugly  under  the  shelter  of  another. 

Thus  protected,  he  betook  himself  to  such  slum- 
bers as  he  might  get,  which  turned  out  to  be  not  the 
most  peaceful.  The  thunder  crashed,  the  lightning 
glared  and  the  wind  howled  in  a  manner  which  seemed 
to  our  poor  John  altogether  demoniacal.  Sleep,  in 
such  a  hurly-burly  of  the  elements,  was  out  of  the 
question ;  so,  raising  himself  up,  he  looked  out  among 
the  rocks,  as  he  could  very  well  do  by  the  aid  of 
the  scarcely  intermittent-  lightning. 

You  may  be  sure  that,  with  all  his  courage,  our 
hunter  was  not  quite  pleased  to  find  himself  in  full 
view  of  tUe  Devil's  altar-stone.  It  was  an  ugly  pre- 
dicament, to  say  the  least  of  it;  but  there  was  no 
help  in  the  case,  and  he  had  only  to  make  the  best 
he  could  of  this  also:  which  turned  out  to  be  bad 
enough  again.  His  eyes  once  fixed  upon  it,  the 
haunted  spot  kept  them  riveted  by  a  terrible  fascina- 
tion, while  Chamberlain  reflected  upon  his  position 


135 

in  a  state  of  mind  which  was  doubtless  far  enough 
from  that  of  philosophic  calmness. 

Very  soon,  however,  his  reflections  were  inter- 
rupted b^f  a  wilder  rush  of  the  storm,  and  a  yet 
broader  and  more  vivid  flash  of  lightnings  which 
illumined  the  whole  valley  and  revealed  the  horned 
Devil  himself,  seated  upon  a  broken  crag  and  clothed 
in  all  the  recognized  paraphernalia  of  his  royalty. 
Chamberlain  thought  him  a  very  Indiany-looking 
devil  indeed,  which  rather  pleased  him  afterwards 
to  tell,  for  he  was  no  lover  of  the  Indian  race. 

This  was  aj^parently  a  gala  night  with  Satan, 
although  none  of  the  guests  were  yet  arrived.  He 
was  not  now  going  to  battle  or  to  work,  but  rather 
to  hold  a  royal  drawing-room,  by  way  of  enjoying 
himself  and  receiving  homage.  His  sable  majesty 
has  been  too  long  intimate  with  earthly  majesties 
and  their  courts,  not  to  recognize  the  value  of  a 
becoming  stateliness  on  the  part  of  those  who  rule 
states,  whether  their  capitals  be  here  or  below: 
tlieir  subjects  civilized  or  savage.  He  sat,  therefore, 
on  this  occasion  enthroned  with  a  very  commanding 
and  royal  grace,  while  the  arrowy  lightnings  shot  in 
circles  around  his  head  —  very  much,  I  judge,  as  you 
may  have  seen  the  swallows  dart  and  soar  of  a  sum- 
mer evening,  around  an  old  church  steeple. 

His  Majesty  had  not  long  to  wait  for  his  loving 
lieo:es,  for  suddenly  from  the  darkness  a  huge, 
gaunt-framed  wizard  leaped  out  and  mounted  the 
altar-stone.  If  Chamberlain  has  not  painted  him 
blacker  than  he  deserves,  this  high  priest  of  Satan 


136  TAGHCONIC. 

was  a  most  villainous-looking  rascal.  His  raw- 
boned  and  ghastly  visage  was  painted  in  most  blood- 
thirsty ugliness;  scalps,  dri]3ping  with  fresh  blood, 
hung  around, his  body  in  festoons;  on  his  own  scul], 
by  way  of  scalp  lock,  burned  a  lambent  blue  flame; 
his  distended  veins  shone  through  the  bright  copper- 
colored  skin  as  if  they  were  filled  with  molten  fire 
for  blood  —  and,  as  for  his  eyes,  they  glowed  with  a 
fiercer  light  than  those  of  the  arch-fiend  himself; 
whence  Chamberlain  maintained  that  an  Indian  priest 
was  at  least  one  degree  more  devilish  than  the  Devil 
himself. 

The  present  was  evidently  a  very  potent  magi- 
cian, for  at  his  call  a  throng  of  ghastly  and  horrible 
phantoms  came  pouring  in  from  every  nook  and 
cranny  of  the  valley  —  each  with  a  shadowy  toma- 
hawk and.  a  torch,  which  did  not  burn  with  the 
honest  and  ruddy  glare  of  pitch-pine,  but  with  a 
blue  color  ard  sulphurous  odor,  that  revealed  un- 
mistakably at  what  fire  they  had  been  lighted. 

Every  ghost,  as  he  came,  made  a  profound  obeis- 
ance to  the  rock-throned  Satan,  and  then  took  his 
place  in  the  circle  around  the  altar-stone.  By  and 
bye,  the  chief  priest  set  up  a  wild,  howling  cnani, 
and  away  went  the  whole  rabble  rout,  yelling  and 
rushing  round  the  altar  in  a  mad,  galloping  sort  of 
dance,  in  which  they  lifted  their  feet  all  the  while, 
as  if  treading  upon  burning  coals  or  red-hot  iron  — 
a  step  w?iich  is  only  learned  in  the  dancing-schools 
down  below.  Many  more  such  diabolical  antics 
they  cut,  which,  as  they  would  neither  be  profitable 


137 

by  way  of  example  or  warning,  it  does  not  matter 
to  tell 

At  last  they  paused,  and  Chamberlain  thought  it 
about  time  for  them  to  take  themselves  off.  But  they 
were  far  enough  from  that:  on  the  contrary,  two 
barbarous  looking  phantoms  —  who  might  in  life 
have  been  familiars  to  a  savage  inquisition  —  pre- 
sented themselves,  leading  between  them  a  beautiful 
Indian  maiden,  robed  only  in  her  own  long  black 
hair.  At  another  moment  the  beholder  might  have 
admired  her  graceful  proportions  and  regular  fea- 
tures —  as  he  did  when  he  afterwards  remembered 
them  —  but  now  his  senses  were  too  much  absorbed 
by  horror.  Not  a  word  the  poor  girl  spoke,  but, 
stupified  and  silent,  looked  around  from  one  unrelent- 
ing face  to  another,  as  if  at  a  loss  to  comprehend 
what  it  all  meant.  Alas  !  she  soon  knew;  for  one 
of  the  familiars,  seizing  her  rudely  around  the  waist, 
placed  her  upon  the  altar-stone  before  the  priest. 
Then  she  shrieked  —  so  wildly  that  the  hunter  de- 
clared the  echo  never  ceased  ringing  in  his  ears  to 
^is  dying  day; — what  part  she  had  to  perform  there 
was  no  longer  doubtful.  But  she  shrieked  not  again 
nor  spoke  —  only  looked  up  into  the  fiery  eyes  of  the 
priest  so  piteously  that  it  seemed  his  heart  should 
have  melted,  had  it  been  formed  even  of  Hint  like  the 
stone  on  which  he  stood;  but  it  had  been  hardened 
in  more  infernal  fires. 

So  he  took  up  his  demoniac  howl  again,  and  went 
capering  madly  around  the  maiden.  Then,  suddenly 
pausing  before  her,  he  raised  his  hatchet  and  the 


138  TAGHCONIC. 

whole  phantom  circle  gathered  closer  around  him, 
as  if  to  gloat  more  nearly  over  their  victim's  pangs. 
It  seemed  the  sacrifice  was  about  to  be  consummated; 
but  as  the  weapon  was  raised,  the  maiden's  eyes 
(averted  from  it)  met  those  of  Chamberlain.  The 
kind-hearted  hunter,  in  whom  compassion  had  over- 
come fear,  could  no  longer  restrain  himself;  so, 
taking  out  his  Bible,  he  2:>ronounced  thegreatNAME  — 
and  witli  a  terrific  crash  of  the  elements  the  whole 
scene  vanished,  leaving  him  in  impenetrable  dark- 
ness —  for  although  the  lightnings  ceased,  as  if  they 
had  accompanied  th'eir  master  in  his  flight,  yet  the 
rain  fell  faster  than  ever. 

When  the  morning  came,  Chamberlain  would  have 
taken  it  all  for  a  dream,  for,  exhausted  with  fatigue 
and  excitement,  he  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep;  but 
he  found  that  the  wizards,  unable  to  harm  him,  while 
protected  by  the  holy  volume,  had  revenged  them- 
selves by  stealing  his  deer,  and  perhaps  givmg  it  to 
their  familiars,  the  bears  —  for  there  were  bears  in 
those  days  —  so  that  there  can  be  no  manner  of  doubt 
as  to  the  truth  and  accuracy  of  Chamberlain's  story. 

There  is  many  another  legend  of  this  haunted  dell; 
as  for  this,  I  hope  you  place  the  same  implicit  confi- 
dence in  it  which  my  old  informant  did. 

Passing  through  the  gorge  very  late,  one  piercing 
cold  winter  night,  the  place  looked  very  weird  to 
me.  The  frozen  air  was  still  as  death;  the  white 
moonlight  was  reflected  from  the  snow,  as  I  fancied 
with  more  of  pallor  than  of  brightness,  and  I  heard 
a  shriek  which  I  tried   to  believe  came  from  the 


wizard's  glen.  139 

maiden  victim.  But  it  may  have  been  the  scream 
of  some  far-off  locomotive.  Confound  those  "re- 
sonant steam  eagles  !  "  —  there's  never  a  shriek, 
from  Cape  Cod  to  the  Taghconics  —  though  with 
the  ghostliest  ring  to  it  —  but  they  get  the  credit. 


X. 

UNDIIsrE'S  GLEN. 


Page  —  Apelles,  you  must  come  away  quickly,  with  the 
picture.  The  king  thinketb,  now  you  have  painted  it  you 
play  with  it. 

Apelles. —  If  I  would  play  with  pictures  I  have  enough  at 
home. 

Page. —  None  perhaps  you  love  so  well. 

Apelles. —  It  may  be  I  have  painted  none  so  well.  [Exit 
page.] 

*  *  *  0  Campasne,  I  have  painted  thee  in  my  heart ;  painted  I 
nay,  contrary  to  my  art,  imprinted,  and  that  in  such  deep 
characters  that  nothing  can  rase  it  out,  unless  it  rub  my  heart 
out. —  Alexander  and  Campasne. 

It  had  been  a  week  of  rare  sultriness  with  us  —  the 
fierce  dying  flicker  of  summer's  life-flame.  The  maple 
leaves  had  lost  the  last  remnant  of  their  glossy  fresh- 
ness; the  cattle  stood  cooling  themselves  under  the 
willow  trees  in  the  still  pools  of  the  river;  long  ago 
the  birds  had  ceased  their  songs  and  fled  into  the 
deeper  recesses  of  the  woods;  we,  human  idlers,  lay 
listlessly  under  the  shade  of  the  nearer  groves  in 
dreamy  reveries,  or  feeble  speculations  upon  the 
destiny  of  some  little  cloud  which  might  chance  to 
speck  the  horizon  —  the  forlorn-hope  of*  a  thunder- 
shower.    At  evening  we  broached  the  mildest  possible 


undhhe's  glen.  141 

topics  of  conversation.  The  nearest  app»'oacli  we 
made  to  vigorous  effort  was  when  a  necessity  aros>e 
for  throwing  cold  water  upon  any  chance  theme  or 
project  which  might  heat  the  blood. 

On  the  most  fiery  day  of  that  fiery  seven,  came  a 
friend  who,  then  of  all  times,  must  climb  to  Wash- 
ington Mountain.  No  flaming  sword  of  the  elements 
could  fright  him  from  his  purpose,  and  all  the  chivalry 
of  friendship  forbade  me  to  leave  him  to  the  chances 
of  being  roasted,  alive  and  alone,  on  some  sun-burnt 
exposure  of  quartzite:  a  very  possible  fate  for  him 
who  in  his  scientific  ardor  lingers  too  long  on  those 
natural  gridirons.  My  friend  had  passed  the  livelong 
summer  in  New  York,  and  minded  our  mountain 
heats  no  more  than  Monsieur  Chaubert  did  a  furnace 
only  heated  three  times,  instead  of  seven. 

Washington  Mountain  is  the  higher  portion  of 
that  part  of  the  Hoosac  range  which  lies  in  the  town 
of  Washington,  and  is  to  be  carefully  distinguished 
from  Mount  Washington,  the  grand  mass  of  Taconic 
hills  in  the  south-western  corner  of  the  county.  The 
point  which  we  were  to  visit,  was  the  shore  of  a  pretty 
and  lonely  mountain  lake,  which  lies  seven  miles  east 
of  Pittsfield  and  seven  hundred  feet  above  it,  or  seven- 
teen hundred  above  the  sea-level.  The  bed-rock 
here  is  pure  quartz,  which  is  a  good  thing  for  the 
Pittsfield  people,  who  get  their  luxurious  abundance 
of  pure  water  from  the  lake,  and  from  mountain 
streams  which  flow  over  the  same  insoluble  formation. 
It  takes  here  the  form  of  granular  quartz  —  which 
mineralogists,  absurdly  to  'my  thinking,  nickname 


142  TAGHCONIC. 

quartzite.  When  distintegrated,  naturally  or  arti- 
ficially, it  becomes  the  silicious  sand  of  the  glass 
manufacture.  A  very  valuable  bed  of  this  sand  lies 
on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  lake:  of  which,  more  by 
and  bye.  I  mention  it  now,  merely  to  confess  that 
it  was  some  speculative  interest  in  the  money-value 
of  its  contents,  and  not  any  fanatical  devotion  to 
mountain  scenery  which  led  us  to  undertake  that 
j)ilgrimage  which  threatened  to'be  so  like  that  from 
Morocco  to  Mecca:  what  ever  of  a  romantic  character 
finally  attached  itself  to  the  excursion,  was  purely 
subsidiary.  But  in  Berkshire,  if  there  is  any  sus- 
ceptibility to  the  romantic  in  you,  you  can  hardly  go 
to  market  for  a  pig  without  its  betraying  itself. 

Thinking  to  escape  the  more  violent  heat,  we  set 
out  at  a  very  early  hour,  but  the  air  was  already  in- 
tensely sultry,  and,  still  worse,  was  filled  with  a  fine 
white  dust,  that  completely  penetrated  eyes,  nose, 
and  mouth.  We  could  neither  see,  breathe,  nor 
speak,  with  comfort;  and  the  gritty  particles  between 
our  teeth  sent  a  nervous  shudder  through  the  whole 
frame.  As  we  ascended  the  mountain  we  came  upon 
a  tine  breeze  which  never  fails  there,  and  which  at 
the  same  time  aggravated  the  plague  of  the  dust, 
and  inspired  us  with  vigor  to  devise  and  execute  a 
remedy. 

Ever  and  anon,  by  the  road-side,  appeared  glimpses 
of  a  deep,  rocky  gorge.  Up  this,  L.  proposed  to 
ascend  the  mountain  by  a  path  familiar  to  him,  and, 
accordingly,  sending  our  horse  forward  by  a  willing 
youth  —  who,  I  rather  doubtfully  hope,  did  not  seize 


irtfDINE's  GLEN.  143 

this  rare  opportunity  to  violate  the  precepts  of  the 
society  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals  —  we 
plunged  down  a  steep  descent,  thick  beset  with 
brambles.  At  the  bottom,  a  little  brook  came 
tumbling  and  purling  down  the  hill,  and,  yielding  to 
its  suggestions,  we  indulged  in  a  series  of  luscious 
ablutions.  None  but  those  who  have  experienced 
the  like,  can  know  the  thrilling  vigor  and  elasticity 
which  penetrated  us  with  the  cool  mountain  air  when 
the  burning  and  inflammatory  dust  was  once  re- 
moved from  the  pores. 

Filled  with  new  life,  we  push-ed  eagerly  up  the 
brook,  now  clambering  over  huge  angular  blocks  of 
flint  rock,  now  sauntering  along  smooth  patches  of 
green  sward,  and  anon  pushing  our  way  through  a 
thorny  hedge  of  blackberry  bushes,  hanging  full  of 
the  ripest  fruit.  Still  L.  led  on,  till  we  came  to  a 
little  level  spot  of  green  sward,  around  which  the 
brook  swept  in  a  graceful  curve,  while  a  thick  leaved 
maple  overhung  it.  We  were  here  shut  out  from  all 
sight  of  human  habitation.  The  only  traces  of 
man's  ravages  were  the  weather-beaten  stumps, 
which  stood,  ghastly  memorials  of  his  parricidal 
war  with  nature,  like  the  bleached  sculls  which  the 
ploughman  turns  up  on  an  ancient  battle-field.  The 
precipitous  hills,  on  either  side,  were  yet  shaggy, 
although  not  as  of  old,  with  the  maple,  the  beech, 
the  fir,  and  the  hemlock.  Just  up  the  gorge,  the 
streamlet  leaped  down  a  black  ledge  in  a  silver  white 
column;  while,  beyond,  the  glen  was  dark  with  nar- 
rowing cliffs  and  over-hanging  trees.     Bravely,  but 


144  TAGHCONIC. 

in  vain,  the  gorgeous  sunshine  darted  its  arrowy  rays 
into  tliat  Thermopylae  of  gloom. 

L.  flung  himself  at  full  length  beneath  the  maple, 
and  I  was  glad  to  follow  his  ex-ample.  "  Do  you 
know,"  he  said,  "  this  is  Undine's  Glen  ?  Shall  I 
tell  you  the  story  of  how  it  got  its  foreign  name  ?  " 

One  day  in  June,  some  ten  years  ago,  there  came 
to  the  village  hotel  in  Pittsfield  two  ladies;  the  one, 
Miss  Helen  Y.,  an  heiress,  and  what  was  more,  a 
spirited,  brilliant,  and  natural  girl.  The  other  was 
her  maiden  aunt,  Miss  M.,  neither  young  nor  pretty, 
yet  a  little  romantic  and  not  a  little  stiff  in  her 
manners.  Miss  M.  held  moreover  the  responsible 
office  of  guardian  to  her  niece,  which  that  young 
lady  took  the  best  care  should  be  anything  but  a. 
sinecure. 

Riding,  walking,  and  reading,  the  lone  dames 
whiled  away  a  week  or  two;  when,  provokingly 
enough,  just  as  the  last  page  of  their  last  light  read- 
ing was  cut,  there  came  a  rainy,  dreary  day,  as  such 
days  will  come,  even  in  June.  At  such  desperate 
junctures,  solid  literature  and  re-readings,  are  not  to 
be  thought  of;  so  recourse  was  had  to  the  land- 
lord. That  functionary  was  anxious  to  serve  his 
fair  guests,  but  unfortunately  his  shelves  were  but 
meagerly  filled.  Suddenly  his  face  brightened  with 
a  new  idea.  Among  his  boarders  was  one  Dr.  M., 
who,  to  enliven  his  hours  in  the  country,  had  brought 
with  him  from  New  York  a  curious  library.  This 
gentleman  was  summoned,  and  made  his  appear- 
ance —  a  very  personable  young  gentleman,  and  a 


145 

clever.  The  wants  of  the  ladies  were  made  known  to 
him,  and  he  invited  them  to  examine  his  library  for 
themselves,  and  some  pictures  which  he  prized,  as  well. 

Helen  was  delighted,  although  she  did  not  exactly 
say  so  then;  Miss  M.  hesitated,  with  some  secret 
misgivings,  but  finally,  overcome  by  the  fiend  ennui, 
and  the  frank  bearing  of  M.,  she,  courteously  enough, 
accepted  the  invitation.  Evening  was  upon  them 
before  they  had  completed  the  survey;  for,  besides  his 
paintings  by  other  artists,  M.  modestly  displayed  his 
own  portfolio,  filled  with  sketches  of  foreign  as  well 
as  neighboring  scenery.  Helen  eagerly  turned  them 
over,  and  M.  had  an  enthusiastic  word  for  many  a 
remembered  scene.  After  Miss  M.  had  several  times 
reminded  her  of  her  prolonged  stay,  Helen  se- 
lected De  La  Motte  Fouqu^'s  delightful  romance  of 
"  Undine  "  from  the  library,  and  that  evening  M. 
read  it  aloud  to  them  in  their  parlor.  Before  they 
parted,  the  ladies  had  consented  to  accompany  him 
on  the  morrow  to  this  spot,  of  which  he  was  going 
to  complete  a  sketch.  So  does  friendship  ripen 
when  the  right  sun-light  falls  upon  it. 

They  came  hither;  the  artist  fixed  his  easel  and 
wrought  upon  his  sketch.  Helen,  seated  at  the  foot  of 
this  maple,  read  "  Undine  "  to  her  aunt.  But  both 
found  an  interval  to  wander  up  the  glen;  so  with 
reading,  sketching,  romancing, —  and  most  likely 
eating  —  the  day  wore  away  and  the  night  came, — 
a  moonlight  night  and  a  moonlight,  ride  home. 

Some  days  passed,  in  which  M.  gained  hugely  in 
13 


146  TAGHCONIC. 

the  good  opinion  of  his  fair  friends,  who  continually 
teased  him  for  a  sight  of  his  sketch  —  which  he  de- 
clared should  not   be  seen  until  it  was  completed. 

Thus,  something  of  an  air  of  mystery  had  woven 
itself  around  the  picture  when  at  last  he  brought  it 
out,  altogether  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  knows  he 
has  done  a  nice  thing,  and  is  rather  proud  to  have 
the  world  see  it. 

Never  was  pride  more  completely  dashed,  or 
lover  more  completely  puzzled.  Helen  blushed  and 
smiled,  but  looked  strangely  and  heartily  vexed. 
The  guardian  aunt  frowned  unequivocally  —  not  to 
say  scowled.  Poor  M.  turned  from  one  to  the  other 
in  most  innocent  and  ludicrous  bewilderment;  but 
finally  settled  down  into  a  fixed  consideration  of  the 
cloud  which  had  so  suddenly  gathered  on  the  old 
lady' s  brow  —  as  a  summer  storm  sometimes  will 
over  the  placid  surface  of  Lake  Ashley.  The  sum- 
■  mer  storm  is  transient,  but  Miss  M.  seemed  to  have 
an  inexhaustible  magazine  of  wrath  behind  her 
wrinkled  forehead.  So,  taking  a  hint  from  Helen's 
eye,  at  the  first  growl  of  the  thunder,  M.  fled. 

The  tempest  was  brewed  in  this  wise.  The  good 
old  lady,  with  all  her  romance  and  stateliness,  had  a 
spice  of  puritanism  about  her,  and  the  special  phase 
in  which  it  showed  itself  was  a  prudish  modesty  in 
the  matter  of  pictures.  Why  it  took  this  form,  more 
than  any  other,  might  be  discovered,  perhaps,  if  we 
could  pry  into  the  crooks  and  crannies  of  her  early 
history.  At  present  it  only  concerns  us  to  know 
that  it  was  there,  and  that  in  consequence  of  it  she 


U1 

issued  a  husky  edict  for  M.  to  "  take  his  vile  picture 
hence." 

Now  this  vile  painting  was  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a  simple  and  spirited  sketch  of  this  scene,  into 
which  the  artist  had  interwoven  a  portrait  of  Helen 
in  the  character  of  Undine.  All  very  well  —  only 
the  painter,  with  the  modest  assurance  of  his  art,  had 
changed  the  maiden's  chaste  garb  for  a  bit  of  flimsy 
drapery,  which  displayed  the  ivory  neck  and  swelling 
bosom,  the  taper  leg  and  rosy  foot,  as  circumstantially 
as  though  he  had  had  the  original  all  the  while  be- 
fore him  for  a  model.  O  fair  and  false  imagination, 
to  steal  away  so  fair  and  true  a  reality  ! 

Miss  M.  would  have  thought  her  ward's  character 
irreparably  compromised  by  interchanging  a  word 
more  with  the  immoral  young  man  M.  had  proved 
himself,  in  her  estimation.  Helen  thought  quite 
otherwise.  Fortunately  for  M.  there  was  another 
difference  in  their  notions.  The  aunt  loved  her 
morning  pillow  —  the  niece  her  morning  walk  —  and 
this  taste  of  the  damsel's  now  acquired  a. new  strength 
that  would  have  charmed  Dr.  Alcott.  In  another 
point  of  view  these  sunrise  excursions  to  South 
Mountain  and  Mellville's  Lake  might  have  been 
thought  alarmingly  frequent.  The  young  lady  could 
not  have  been  expected  or  desired  to  make  her  walks 
solitary,  but  one  who  saw  how  demurely  they  met  at 
the  breakfast  table  would  not  have  surmised  that  the 
painter  had  been  her  companion  an  hour  before. 

But  the  end  was  not  yet;  walking,  it  seems  would 
not  content  them  —  they  must  ride  as  well.     So  one 


148  TAGHCONIC. 

balmy  morning  in  the  gray  twilight,  a  pair  of  spirited 
greys  were  reined  up  at  the  south  door  of  the  Berk- 
shire House,  while  our  young  friends  took  their 
places  behind  them;  and  then,  heigho  for  Lebanon  ! 
*'  They'll  have  fleet  steeds  that  follow,  quoth  young 
Lochinvar."  Gallant  champions  of  Love,  those  same 
fiery  greys  !  Before  then,  and  since,  they  have  borne 
beating  hearts  up  the  hills  and  down  the  valleys  of 
that  seven  miles  of  Hymen's  highway  which  lie  be- 
tween the  jurisdiction  of  the  puritan  publishment 
laws  and  the  marriage-encouraging  state  of  New 
York.  I  wonder  if  any  where  in  this  western  world 
more  visions  of  happiness  have  been  dreamed,  more 
passionate  pulsations  throbbed,  than  between  the  tall 
Elm  of  Pittsfield  and  the  all-curing  Springs  of  Le- 
banon. The  very  murmurs  of  the  groves  have  caught 
the  soft  tones  of  lover's  vows;  the  sparkling  streams 
reflect  the  ardent  gleam  of  expectant  bridegroom's 
eyes. 

Over  this  hymenial  highway,  that  balmy  morning, 
our  happy  couple  were  rapidly  whirled,  and  before 
the  sun  was  up,  the  words  were  said  which  bound 
them  in  that  union  which  no  words  can  unloose.  I 
doubt  if  their  steeds  were  urged  as  impatiently  on 
their  return,  but  they  reached  their  hotel  again  while 
the  careless  guardian,  fatigued  with  the  last  night's 
novel,  yet  slept.  How  they  ever  reconciled  matters 
with  her  I  never  heard;  but  it  was  done,  for  last 
week  she  sat  quietly  by,  while  M.,  in  a  little  recessed 
back  parlor  in  Brooklyn,  told  me  the  story  of  his 
wooing.     On  the  wall,  too,  he  pointed  out  to  me  the 


TrNDESTE'S   GLEN.  149 

identical  "vile  painting;"  and  by  her  mother's  side 
a  little  Undine  of  eight  summers  shook  her  sunny- 
curls  and  laughed.  I  don't  think  the  painter  ever 
regretted  his  day's  sketching  in  the  wild  glen  he 
christened  "  Undine's  Gorge." 

"  Can  you  believe  the  doctor  was  ever  guilty  of 
such  nonsense  as  that  ?  "  said  JMi'S.  M.,  laughing  and 
blushing,  as  she  handed  me  a  delicately  tinted  and 
perfumed  paper.  It  was  one  of  her  husband's 
effusions  in  the  days  of  their  courtship,  and  I 
noticed  that  his  nonsense  had  been  carefully  copied 
in  her  own  neat  penmanship.  "  And  will  you  be- 
lieve that  those  silly  lines  .once  had  the  power  to 
make  me  tell  my  poor  aunt  a  little  fib,  and  then  walk 
half  a  mile  to  meet  the  saucy  fellow,  by  Elsie's 
Haunted  Pool  ?    What  weak  things  gii'ls  are  !  " 

Of  course  I  could  but  beg  a  copy  of  the  verses; 
and  here  they  are: 

Geeen  Hjlls  of  Taghconic. 

All  sounds  are  hushed  to  silence, 

Save  tlie  insect's  lulling  drone 
And  the  murmur  of  the  brooklet 

O'er  its  bed  of  pebbled  stone. 
Far  off,  the  green  hills  of  Taghconic 

In  the  glow  of  the  sunset  lie, 
Entwined  with  a  chaplet  of  roses 

And  clasped  in  the  arms  of  the  sky  ; 
For,  round  as  the  bosom  of  beauty, 

They  swell  from  the  vale  i_^n  the  west, 
And,  catching  the  rose  hue  of  twilight, 

Seem  blushing  to  be  caressed. 


150  TAGHOONIC. 

One  wreath  of  a  silvery  vapor 

That  awhile  on  the  hill-top  hung, 
Like  a  gossamer  scarf  by  a  maiden 

O'er  her  ivory  shoulders  flung, 
Is  gone  ;  for  the  sky  —  a  right  lover  — 

The  beautiful  wearer  kissed, 
And  drew  to  himself  for  a  token 

The  scarflet  of  silvery  mist. 
But  lo,  for  the  token  he  taketh 

A  token  more  fair  he  bestows, 
For,  see,  on  the  brow  of  the  mountain 

A  starry  diamond  glows. 

To-night  by  earth  and  heaven 

Alike  is  love-lore  taught, 
And  the  air  witii  the  sweetest  wisdom 

Of  happiness  is  fraught. 
Then  come  to  our  tryst  in  the  gloaming, 

Our  tryst  by  the  whispering  beech, 
And  we'll  con  the  lessons  duly 

That  the  sages  of  nature  teach ; 
While  near  us  the  clear  Housatonic 

Meandering  flows  to  the  sea, 
And  sounds,  with  the  silence  harmonic. 

Are  blended  in  melody. 

The  story  told,  and  a  bumper  drained  to  the 
health  of  the  heroine  —  again  up,  still  up,  the  cool 
gorge,  till  it  diverged  to  the  north,  while  our  path 
lay  southward. 


XI. 


WASHINGTON  MOUNTAIN  AND  LAKE 
ASHLEY. 

**  A  lonely  mountain  tarn.'* 


Emerging  from  Undine's  Glen,  and  reclaiming  our 
carriage,  we  soon  reached  the  shore  of  Lake  Ashley, 
a  pretty  sheet  of  water,  but  more  remarkable  for  its 
elevation,  its  loneliness  and  its  unrivalled  purity, 
than  for  any  beauty  of  contour.  The  cold,  pure 
serenity  of  its  dark  waves,  as  we  looked  upon  them 
that  day,  was  indeed  exquisite.  Lined  on  all  sides 
but  one  by  unbroken  woods,  fed  only  by  fountains 
which  gush  from  below,  with  neither  speck  nor  boat 
on  all  its  tranquil  surface,  it  seemed,  as  we  rode 
along  its  eastern  border,  the  very  waters  of  solitude. 
It  should  be  so,  for  since  the  Indian's  graceful  bark 
is  gone  forever,  there  remains  none  which  would  not 
disturb  the  calm  beauty  of  the  scene. 

In  long  delicious  draughts  of  the  cool,  sweet 
wave,  we  drank  deep  to  the  mountain  maids,  and 
certain  maids  of  the  valley:  to  the  spirits  of  earth, 
air  and  water  —  to  all  kindly  spirits  whatever;  not 
forgetting  those  who  were  then  planning  the  grand 
project,  since  grandly  perfected,  of  teaching  these 


152  TAGHCONIC. 

solitary  and  secluded  waters  to  thread  their  way 
through  the  homes,  and  sparkle  in  the  fountains  of 
thirsty  Pittsfield.  They  are  as  refreshing  there  as  a 
lively,  bright-eyed  country  girl  in  a  Fifth  Avenue 
parlor.  Bless  them  both,  girl  and  mountain  stream  ! 

And  then  we  got  down  —  or,  rather,  up  —  to  the 
solid  business  of  the  day.  Washington  Mountain, 
as  I  have  said,  is  composed  largely  of  quartzite. 
On  the  western  slope  it  lies  in  laminated  strata,  of 
which  some,  from  three  to  six  inches  thick,  are 
quarried  for  flagstones  and  like  purposes.  - 

In  the  earlier  days  of  the  settlement  they  were  oc- 
casionally used  for  grave-stones,  although  of  such 
adamantine  hardness  as  almost  to  defy  the  sculptor's 
most  irresistible  chisel.  You  may  see,  in  the  "  Pil- 
grim's Rest "  of  the  Pittsfield  cemetery,  some  curious 
specimens,  a  hundred  years  old,  on  which  the  in- 
scriptions, whose  depth  is  almost  imperceptible  to 
the  eye,  yet  look  as  fresh  as  if  cut  yesterday;  so 
little  has  a  century  done  to  smooth  the  thin,  white 
roughening,  the  painstaking  old  sculptor  was  able  to 
effect. 

From  these  rude  quarries,  the  people  of  old  time 
called  this  "  Rock  Mountain;  "  a  name  quite  as  dis- 
tinctive and  appropriate,  to  say  the  least,  as  that 
which  it  now  bears.  In  other  parts  of  the  mountain 
the  quartz  is  of  finer  grain,  and  not  stratified.  Still, 
like  the  quartzite  boulders  you  find  all  the  way  from 
the  Canaan  range  to  the  Hoosac,  it  appears  compact; 
but,  crush  it  under  a  hammer  or  in  an  iron  mortar  — 
or  throw  a  heated  fragment  into  water  —  and  you 


WASHINGTON    MOUNTAIN.  153 

shall  see  it  fly  into  a  sand  identical  with  that  used 
by  the  glass-makers. 

In  Cheshire,  Lanesboro',  and  other  localities  along 
the  Hoosac  range,  this  quartzite  is  found  naturally 
disintegrated,  in  immense  and  valuable  beds,  from 
which  large  quantities  of  silicious  sand  are  annually 
taken  for  the  local  glass-works  and  for  exportation; 
for  it  is  very  widely  used.  It  is  altogether  probable 
that  the  light  by  which  you  read  these  words  comes 
to  you  through  material  which  once  lay  in  our 
Berkshire  sand-beds,  now  transformed  to  window 
glass  and  lamp  chimneys.  I  had  learned  that  one  of 
these  precious  deposits  lay  under  a  little  well-wooded 
noppit  which  rose  not  far  from  the  eastern  shore  of 
Lake  Ashley.  It  supplied  silicious  material  for  glass- 
works during  the  war  of  1812,  but  afterwards  fell 
out  of  use,  and  almost  out  of  mind.  There  was  now 
a  new  demand  for  it;  and  hence  our  haste  in  seek- 
ing it  that  torrid  summer  day.  A  small  recess  in 
the  side  of  the  noppit  was  the  only  trace  which  re- 
mained of  the  labors  of  the  old  miners;  but  there 
were  sufficient  indications  of  a  rich  deposit.  I  shall 
have  more  to  say  hereafter  of  the  beautiful  and 
curious  quartz  formations  of  Berkshire;  but  for  the 
present  it  is  enough  to  add,  concerning  this  peculiar 
bed,  that  the  indications  of  its  wealth  were  not  de- 
ceptive. It  proved  among  the  best  in  the  country, 
both  as  to  extent  and  quality;  and  has  long  been  the 
source  of  supply  for  the  famous  glass-works  at 
Lenox  Furnace. 

Such  investigations  as  we  had  the  means  for  mak- 


164  TAGHCONIC. 

ing  were  soon  finished,  and  we  had  still  time  to  seek 
for  an  extended  mountain  view.  Knowing  nothing 
of  the  region,  we  found  this  a  task  of  no  small  diffi- 
culty; but  there  was  a  great  reward.  By  mere  ac- 
cident we  came  upon  an  outlook  open  on  every  side 
to  the  surrounding  mountains,  but  cutting  off  every 
glimpse  of  valley. 

"  Nunc  coelum  undique  et  undique"  montes! 

Although  there  are  many  similar  views'  among  our 
Green  Mountains,  there  are  few  in  which  the  seclu- 
sion of  sky  and  mountain-tops  is  so  complete  as  in 
this.  To  the  north-east  a  wild  billowy  sea  of  moun- 
tains stretched  far  away  —  a  taller  peak  sometimes 
dashing  its  splintered  crest  into  the  sky,  and  a  white 
village  spire,  or  a  red  farm  house,  appearing  here  and 
there,  a  floating  waif  upon  the  waste.  Upon  a 
lofty  point,  miles  away,  the  pretty  village  of  Mid- 
dlefield  glittered  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun. 
On  the  north  and  on  the  south  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  extended  the  long,  rolling,  billowy  swells 
of  the  Hoosacs.  On  the  west,  the  ever  beautiful 
Taconics;  and,  looming  far  beyond  them,  the  shadowy 
Catskills,  looking  like  huge  ghosts  of  perished  moun- 
tains —  long  ago  murdered  by  crashing  earthquakes 
or  smothering  ice-sheets. 

The  fastnesses  of  Washington  Mountain  were 
among  the  last  strong-holds  in  Massachusetts  where 
the  defeated,  but  not  yet  wholly  desperate,  insur- 
gents of  the  Shay's  Rebellion  took  refuge;  and  met 
with  new  disaster.  The  sad  case  of  men  "who 
have  been  in  arms  against  the  government,"  and  by 


WASHINGTON    MOUNTAIN.  155 

failure  are  placed  at  the  mercy  of  insulted  and  vin- 
dictive law,  has  long  been  one  of  the  most  touch- 
ing themes  of  historical  romance.  In  this  instance, 
to  be  sure,  the  triumphant  government,  doubtless 
conscious  that  it  was  itself  not  without  sin  in  giving 
cause  for  the  revolt,  was  more  merciful  to  the  trea- 
son than  it  had  been  to  the  poverty  which  provoked 
it;  but  at  the  time  of  the  rally  on  the  heights  of 
the  Hoosacs,  this  clemency  was  by  no  means  well 
assured,  and  I  doubt  not  that  there  was  enough 
of  dread  and  suffering  and  sorrow  there,  to  touch 
our  deepest  sj^mpathies  could  we  but  recall  their 
story. 

An  excellent  road  —  the  old  Boston  and  Albany 
highway,  leads  to  "  Washington  Center,"  and  thence 
another  runs  southward  along  the  crest  of  the  moun- 
tain, through  a  level  pastoral  country,  affording  a 
charming,  invigorating  drive  with  frequent  bold  and 
striking  prospects.  If  your  imagination  is  potent  to 
bring  back  a  ragged  squad  or  two  of  those  forlorn 
old  rebels,  to  enliven  the  foreground,  it  will  im- 
prove the  picture.  In  default  of  that,  a  trim  school 
mistress  in  a  jaunty  hat,  a  bronzed  and  bright-eyed 
ploughman,  and  perhaps  a  grim  and  grizzled  wood- 
chopper,  must  serve. 


xn. 

MARVELS  OF  THE  TUNNEL  CITY. 

Make  straight  in  the  desert  a  highway  for  our  God : 

Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every  mountain  shall  be 

made  low ; 
And  the  crooked  shall  be  made  straight,  and  the  rough  places 

plain, 
And  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  be  revealed. — Isaiah. 

The  chariot  shall  be  with  flaming  torches,  in  the  day  of  his 

preparation  ; 
And  the  fir  trees  shall  be  terribly  shaken ; 
The  chariots  shall  rage  in  the  streets  ; 
They  shall  jostle,  one  against  another,  in  the  broad  ways ; 
They  shall  seem  like  torches ;  they  shall  run  like  lightnings. 

Nahum. 


Whither  shall  we  go  this  fine  morning  ?  For  one 
I  am  inclined  to  extend  our  rambles  a  little:  and  an 
hour  or  so  on  the  rail  will  enable  us  to  spend  a  long 
day  in  any  of  those  delightful  localities,  brimful  of 
interesting  objects  and  associations,  which  cluster 
thickly  around  Williamstown  and  North  Adams  on 
the  north,  Sheffield,  Great  Barrington  and  Stock- 
bridge  on  the  south,  and  in  the  rich  mineral  fields  of 
the  Corundum  hills  on  the  border  of  Hampshire 
county.  Or  we  may  take  the  wings  of  "  the  resonant 
steam  eagles,"  and  fly  away  to  towering,  sparkling, 


TUITNEL  CITY.  157 

splashing,  darkling,  Bash-Bish.  But  I  think  bright, 
busy,  bustling  dashing  North  Adams,  with  its  lively 
streets  and  peculiar  surroundings,  will  show  off  well 
in  this  cool,  clear  atmosphere:  hot  and  hazy,  or  wet 
and  misty,  days  do  not  favor  them  much. 

To  my  mind,  the  most  notable  thing  in  this  fine 
old  town,  or  its  bright  new  village,  is  the  people: 
not  to  disparage  some  very  noble  scenery,  or  perhaps 
the  most  remarkable  natural  curiosity  in  the  common- 
wealth ;  and,  least  of  all,  to  speak  lightly  of  the  grand 
Tunnel.  But  North  Adams  is,  I  verily  believe,  the 
smartest  village  in  "  the  smartest  nation  of  all  crea- 
tion:" the  concentrated  essential  oil  of  Yankeedom. 
As  you  pass  through  its  streets,  you  see  the  evidence 
of  this  great  truth  everywhere;  in  the  shops,  in  the 
manufactories,  in  the  hotels :  and,  if  these  do  not  con- 
vince you,  there  will  be  no  room  for  doubt  when  you 
come  to  the  Hoosac  Tunnel,  which  is  almost  as  much 
a  North  Adams  product,  as  the  shoes  made  by  the 
aid  of  Chinese  cheap  labor,  or  the  textile  fabrics 
woven  by  more  costly  imported  help. 

We  look  with  admiring  awe  upon  the  engineering 
skill  and  persistence  which  penetrated  from  side  to 
centre  of  that  enormous  mountain-mass,  in  exact 
conformity  with  their  intention;  but  not  less  skillful 
and  persistent  was  the  engineering  which  carried  the 
Tunnel  measures  through  that  solid,  but  ever-fluctuat- 
ing body,  the  Great  and  General  Court;  which, 
like  the  demoralized  rock  of  the  Hoosac  Mountain, 
was  all  the  more  difficult  to  manage  for  the  insta- 
bility of  its  constituent  material.  You  think  that 
14 


158  TAGHCONIC. 

the  waters  of  the  Deerfield  river  generated  the  power 
which  bored  the  Tunnel.  Doubtless,  in  a  secondary 
way,  it  did;  but  not  until  a  rill  from  the  state  treasury 
had  become  a  helpful  tributary  of  the  Deerfield. 
The  primary  motive  force  was  furnished  by  that 
bold  engineering  which  dammed  the  treasury,  and 
turned  a  golden  stream  Tunnelward;  and  North 
Adams  furnished  the  engineers. 

Do  not  misconceive  me.  I  do  not  use  that  word, 
engineering,  in  an  offensive  sense,  although  I  admit 
it  to  be,  in  some  sort,  slang.  Slang  is  often,  as  in 
this  instance,  only  metaphor  vulgarized  by  the  news- 
papers. Every  public  movement  must  be  engineered; 
not  one,  that  I  know,  was  ever  so  non-antagonistic 
to  private  interests,  or  so  self -evidently  for  the 
common  good,  that  it  would  engineer  itself  —  move 
off  spontaneously;  and,  by  virtue  of  its  own  native 
goodness,  finish  its  course  triumphantly.  Even  a 
revival  of  religion  is  not  achieved  that  way;  and  I 
seem  to  have  read  somewhere  that  our  American 
Revolution  was  adroitly  "  worked  up."  As  for  those 
who,  by  engineering  or  otherwise,  helped  on  the  bor- 
ing of  the  Hoosac  Tunnel,  I  fully  believe  that  they 
deserve,  and  will  in  due  time  receive,  the  gratitude 
of  every  unselfish  well-wisher  of  the  commonwealth. 

Having  read  in  the  old  records  that,  after  the 
Boston  and  Albany  Railroad  was  opened,  its  mana- 
gers were  in  great  doubt  whether  freight  enough 
would  ever  be  offered,  to  require  the  use  of  the  two 
locomotives  which  they  had  placed  between  Spring- 
field and  Pittsfield,  I  have  the  courage  to  find,  in  the 


TUNNEL  CITY.  159 

great  traffic  which  already  seeks  an  avenue  through 
the  Tunnel,  the  promise  of  an  adequate  direct  return 
for  the  State's  vast  expenditure  there.  But,  even  if 
that  promise  fail,  I  have  the  faith  in  reserve  that  the 
deficiency  will  be  more  than  made  good,  indirectly, 
by  increased  wealth  and  population. 

But  what  have  we  to  do  with  profit  and  loss,  in 
our  search  for  romance  and  beauty  ?  Of  romance,  we 
shall  surely  find  enough  in  the  undertaking  and  ac- 
complishment of  that  stupendous  Tunnel  enterprise; 
and,  if  there  be  any  lack  of  beauty  —  of  which  I  am 
not  sure  —  it  will  find  abundant  compensation  in 
the  grandeur  of  the  work;  a  much  more  rare  attribute 
of  Berkshire  marvels. 

The  Tunnel,  however,  as  well  as  the  glories  of  the 
scenery  around  North  Adams,  has  been  celebrated 
by  a  pen  so  much  more  competent  than  mine,  that 
it  would  be  presumption  for  me  to  attempt  more 
than  the  briefest  glimpses  at  them;  a  barley-corn  of 
quit-rent,  as  it  were,  in  acknowledgment  of  homage 
due. 

The  Hoosac  Tunnel  project  is  of  no  recent  birth. 
It  is  more  than  sixty-five  years  since  the  Massachu- 
setts people,  provoked  to  good  works  by  the  success 
of  the  Erie  canal,  conceived  the  idea  of  making  the 
Hudson  River  climb  over  the  Berkshire  Hills  and 
run  down  to  Boston;  or  if,  under  the  protection  of 
certain  laws  not  subject  to  repeal  by  the  General 
Court,  or  to  be  evaded  by  its  engineers,  the  waters 
of  the  great  river  obstinately  refused  to  run  up  hill, 
then  to  take  from  them  the  ever-iiicreasino-  burdeji 


160  TAGHCONTC. 

of  western  commerce,  which  they  perversely  carried 
to  New  York,  and  turn  it  eastward  by  means  of  a 
little  Yankee  Hudson  —  to  wit,  a  canal  —  to  be  manu- 
factured, until  it  crossed  the  Hoosacs,  out  of  the  lakes 
and  streams  of  Berkshire. 

One  proposition  for  carrying  out  this  scheme,  was  to 
follow  nearly  what  is  now  the  route  of  the  Boston  and 
Albany  railroad ;  but  there  was  some  doubt  whether 
Pittsfield  and  the  neighboring  heights  could  furnish 
an  adequate  sujDply  of  water;  and,  besides,  as  one 
can  readily  believe,  the  "  rocky  nature  of  the  ground 
between  Pittsfield  and  Blandford  was  discouraging." 

On  the  route  now  followed  by  the  Troy  and  Boston 
raih'oad,  the  engineer  found  no  very  troublesome 
obstacles,  except  that,  immediately  east  of  North 
Adams,  the  Hoosac  Mountain  reared  a  barrier  fifteen 
hundred  feet  high,  and,  at  his  very  moderate  com- 
putation, four  miles  thick. 

Here  was  something  that,  even  with  our  advanced 
scientific  and  material  engineering  facilities,  would 
give  the  boldest  projector  pause;  but  if  it  intimi- 
dated those  old  enthusiasts  at  all,  it  must  have  been 
only  for  a  brief  space.  Late  in  the  winter  of  1825, 
Governor  Eustis  appointed  Nathan  Willis  of  Pitts- 
field, Elihu  Hoyt  of  Deerfield  and  H.  A.  S.  Dearborn 
of  Boston,  commissioners,  and  Colonel  Laomi  C. 
Baldwin,  engineer,  to  consider  the  possibility  of  the 
scheme  for  a  canal  from  the  Hudson  to  Boston;  and 
in  January,  1826,  they  reported  it  to  be  perfectly 
practicable,  by  means  of  a  tunnel  through  the  Hoosac 
Mountain,  nearly  at  the  point  occupied  by  the  pre- 


TTJNKEL  CITY.  161 

sent  tunnel.  The  proposed  dimensions  were  four 
miles  in  length,  twenty  feet  in  width'  and  thirteen 
and  a  half  in  height;  requiring  a  total  excavation  of 
two  hundred  and  eleven  thousand  cubic  yards. 
The  elevation  of  the  mountain  ranges  which  still 
remained  was  to  be  overcome  by  a  series  of  locks, 
whose  total  rise  and  fall  were  to  be  three  thousand 
two  hundred  and  eighty-one  feet.  The  commis- 
sioners estimated  the  cost  of  the  canal,  one  hundred 
and  seventy-eight  miles  long,  at  about  six  million 
dollars,  including  that  of  the  tunnel  which  they  put 
at  less  than  one  million. 

Colonel  Baldwin  was  probably  the  daring  spirit 
who  first  conceived  the  idea  of  this  gigantic  under- 
taking —  far  more  gigantic  than  he,  in  his  profes- 
sional philosophy,  dreamed.  But,  whoever  was 
father  to  the  thought,  the  people  of  the  Tunnel 
Region  eagerly  adopted  it;  and,  though  for  a  time 
it  seemed  to  others  to  die,  they  knew  that  it  only 
slept;  and  never  lost  sight  of  it  until  a  locomotive, 
instead  of  a  canal  boat,  emerging  from  the  bowels 
of  the  mountain,  rejoiced  their  waiting  eyes. 

In  1826,  a  Boston  newspaper-writer  demonstrated, 
to  his  own  satisfaction  at  least,  that,  on  the  commis- 
sioner's own  showing,  it  would  require  fifty-two 
years  to  complete  the  proposed  excavation.  Never- 
theless, had  it  not  been  for  the  timely  introduction, 
at  that  very  moment,  of  steam  as  a  motive  power  on 
railroads,  there  is  much  reason  to  believe  that  the 
state  would  have  undertaken  the  tunnel.     It  is  cer- 


162  TAGUCONIC. 

tain,  at  least,  that  there  would  have  been  a  strong 
party  in  favor  of  its  so  doing. 

And  now,  if  you  will  consider  what  chemical  and 
mechanical  appliances  were  at  the  command  of  the 
engineer  in  1825;  what  was  the  cost  of  labor,  and 
what  the  pecuniary  resources  of  the  state,  I  think 
you  will  concede  some  grandeur  to  the  courage  that 
did  not  flinch  from  a  work  which  has  since,  under 
far  different  conditions,  almost  frightened  some  very 
solid  economists  from  their  propriety. 

The  successful  use  of  steam  on  railroads  effectually 
cured  the  canal  fever,  which  was  raging  with  symp- 
toms very  threatening  to  the  public  purse;  and 
attention  was  diverted  from  the  Hoosac  Mountain  — 
the  highest  mass  of  the  Hoosac  Range  —  to  the  more 
moderate  grades  of  the  same  chain  in  Central  and 
Southern  Berkshire ;  which,  at  no  ruinous  cost,  could 
be  made  available  even  with  such  locomotive  power 
as  the  skill  of  that  day  was  able  to  provide. 

The  tunnel  project,  thus  put  to  rest,  slept  an 
unquiet  slumber,  until  it  was  re-awakened  in  1848, 
by  the  charter  of  the  Troy  and  Greenfield  railroad 
with  a  capital  of  three  million  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  A  proposed  capital  only;  for  the  arbiters 
of  finance  did  not  look  kindly  upon  the  scheme,  and 
it  languished  —  in  a  morning  nap  perhaps  —  until  its 
friends,  in  1854,  secured  a  loan  of  two  million  dol- 
lars from  the  commonwealth. 

The  tunnel  work  was  begun  with  energy  in  1856. 
But  I  am  not  going  to  attempt  the  story  of  its 
troubles  and  its  triumphs.     What  with  demoralized 


TUNNEL    CITY.  163 

rock  and  demoralized  legislators;  with  the  rudest 
inexperience  to  be  transformed  to  accurate  practical 
knowledge;  with  useless,  followed  by  the  most  effi- 
cient, machinery;  with  inadequate,  and  then  with 
almost  too  violent,  rending  power;  with  sad  waste 
of  treasure;  with  still  sadder  sacrifice  of  life  —  there 
was  enough,  both  of  obstacle  and  the  overcoming  of 
it.  But  the  final  victory  came  at  last;  and,  as  I  think, 
that  first  locomotive  which,  on  the  first  of  March, 
1875,  thundered  through  the  vanquished  mountain, 
was  the  proudest  triumphal  car  that  had  ever  cele- 
brated conquest. 

If.  you  think  my  estimate  exaggerated,  what  will 
you  say  of  Rev.  Dr.  Todd,  Pittsfield's  quaintly  elo- 
quent, but  thoroughly  orthodox,  divine,  who  found 
in  our  railroad  era  the  fulfilment  of  the  sublime 
prophecies  which  I  have  placed  at  the  head  of  this 
article?  This  was  in  that  glow  of  feeling  excited  in 
the  warm-hearted  pastor  by  his  official  participation 
in  the  golden  welding  of  those  iron  bands  by  which 
the  Pacific  railroad  binds  together  the  east  and  the 
west;  and  I  am  not  sure  whether  he  counted  his 
words  well  grounded  doctrine,  or  merely  the  play  of 
his  bold  poetic  fancy.  But  you  and  I  have  heard 
many  a  less  plausible  interpretation  of  prophecy 
gravely  propounded  by  reverend  lips. 

Well,  there  the  Hoosac  Tunnel  is  —  not  at  all  the 
visionary  thing  it  seemed  to  many  eyes,  even  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago;  but  a  very  palpable  fact; 
BO  palpable  indeed  that  you  can  feel  the  darkness 
within  it.     You  may  visit  it;  but,  before  you  do  so. 


164  TAGHCONIC. 

consider  well  the  strength  of  the  old  Titanic  moun- 
tain wall,  which,  so  far  as  it  was  a  barrier  to  com- 
merce, it  has  thrown  down;  consider  the  wealth  of 
treasure  and  of  intellect,  of  human  labor  and  human 
life,  which  have  gone  to  its  construction;  get  some 
conception,  if  you  can,  of  the  mighty  flood  of  travel 
and  traffic  which  rolls  through  it  in  ever-swelling 
volume.  Thus  prepared,  you  may  feel  the  grandeur 
of  the  Tunnel;  otherwise  you  may  almost  as  well 
spend  eleven  minutes  in  your  coal-cellar.  Unless, 
indeed,  you  chance  upon  an  hour  when  the  cavernous 
walls  are,  for  some  special  purpose  illuminated;  then, 
I  dare  say,  you  will  experience  some  curious  sensa- 
tions; it  may  be  of  an  exalted  nature. 

And  now  let  us  return  to  the  Tunnel  City:  where, 
however,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  paint  for  you  Mount 
Hawkes,  Williams,  Adams  or  any  of  the  grand  hills 
which  look  down  upon  it.  They  have  already  been 
gladdened  by  a  more  golden  light  than  I  could  throw 
upon  them.  But  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  to 
repeat  a  visit  which  I  made  many  years  ago  to  The 
Natural  Bridge:  a  piece  of  carving  by  the  Water 
Nymphs,  which  I  do  not  find  surpassed  by  any  thing 
which  Dame  Nature's  eccentric  work-people  have 
effected  anywhere  in  New  England. 

Some  years  ago  I  took  a  walk,  with  a  noted  tra- 
veller, along  the  bending  valley  of  the  Hoosac,  to 
North  Adams  and  Williamstown;  thence  to  the 
summit  of  Greylock,  down  its  most  precipitous  side 
into  one  of  its* wildest  recesses;  and  down  the  valley 
of  the  Housatonic  to  Pittsfield.     You  will  wander 


TUXXEL'  CITY.  165 

long  before  you  meet  another  route  so  rich  in  ad- 
mii-able  landscape  or  in  objects  of  marked  individual 
interest;  but  none  of  them  were  impressed  on  my 
memory  so  vividly  and  pleasantly  as  this  bridge,  and 
the  ravine  by  which  it  is  best  approached. 

Reaching  the  vicinity  by  a  winding  road  which 
afforded  superb  views  towards  the  south  and  east, 
we  entered  the  ravine  at  its  lower  terminus.  We 
made  no  measurements,  but  the  following  description, 
furnished  by  Rev.  John  W.  Yeomans  for  the  "  His- 
tory of  Berkshire"  published  in  1829,  perfectly  ac- 
cords with  my  impressions. 

"  About  a  mile  north  east  of  North  Adams  village,  Hudson's 
brook  has  worn  a  channel  thirty  rods  long,  and  in  some  places 
sixty  feet  deep,  through  a  quarry  of  white  marble.  The  ledge 
terminates  at  the  south  in  a  steep  precipice,  down  which  it 
seems  the  water  once  fell ;  but,  finding  in  some  places  natural 
fissures,  and  in  others  wearing  away  the  rock,  it  has  formed  a 
passage  from  thirty  to  sixty  feet  below  its  former  bed,  and  with 
a  mean  breadth  of  fifteen  feet.  Across  this  chasm,  two  masses 
of  rock  —  one  ten  or  twelve  feet  above  the  other  —  lie  like 
bridges.  The  upper  is  now  much  broken  :  under  the  lower, 
which  is  beautifully  arched,  the  stream  has  sunk  its  bed  nearly 
fifty  feet." 

The  walls  of  the  ravine  are  perpendicular  cliffs  of 
pure  white  marble,  highly  crystaline  in  coarse  granu- 
lation —  a  dolomite,  if  I  recollect  rightly,  susceptible 
of  a  fine  edge  under  the  chisel.  They  are  mottled 
all  over,  from  top  to  bottom  with  indentations  of 
various  shapes  and  sizes:  but  oftenest  circular 
and  concave,  like  a  saucer,  with  ^  an  average  dia- 
meter, at  a  rough  guess,  of  eight  or  ten  inches: 
making  a  very  pretty  Arabesque  fret  work.     But, 


166  TAGHCONIC. 

small  or  large,  the  indentations  were  evidently  made 
by  rolling  pebbles  kept  in  motion  by  the  waters  of 
the  sinking  stream.  Frequently  one  of  the  niche-like 
recesses  has  almost  its  exact  counterpart  precisely  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  chasm;  as  though  a  marble 
mass  —  in  which  was  a  hollow  space,  like  an  inverted 
cauldron  or  old-fashioned  dinner-pot  —  had  been 
sharply  rent  in  twain,  and  the  sides  withdrawn  fifteen 
feet  apart:  ah  explanation  which  has  sometimes  been 
rashly  made.  The  phenomenon  seems  rather  to  in- 
dicate where  a  ledge  of  fixed  rock  extended  nearly 
across  the  bottom  of  the  brook,  forcing  the  grinding 
pebbles  against  the  wall  on  each  side. 

Ask  the  sculptor  who  makes  gravestones  of  that 
marble,  how  long  he  thinks  it  took  the  water  nymphs 
to  carve  out  that  ravine  and  fret  its  walls  so  curiously. 

Entering  the  lower  opening  of  the  ravine,  we  waded 
squarely  into  the  brook,  which  we  found  easily 
fordable;  and  as  it  was  a  warm  summer  day,  we  weat 
merrily  splashing  our  way  almost  to  the  bridge; 
whereby  we  got  the  best  possible  appreciation  of 
the  whole  thing.  And  a  high  appreciation  it  was, 
as  my  companion  expressed  it  in  an  animated 
speech  when  we  had  ensconced  ourselves  in  opposite 
niches  in  the  marble  walls. 


XIII. 

LANESBOROUGH  SUNLIGHT  AND  SHADOW. 

Man  has  two  minutes  and  a  half  to  live  —  one  to  smile,  one 
to  sigh,  and  a  half  to  love :  for  in  the  midst  of  this  we  die. 
But  the  grave  is  not  deep  ;  it  is  the  shining  footprint  of  the 
angel  who  seeks  us;  and  when  the  unknown  hand  throws  the 
fatal  dart,  man  boweth  his  head,  and  the  shaft  only  lifts  the 
crown  of  thorns  from  his  wounds. —  Jean  Paul  Richter. 


Nestled  closest  in  the  bosom  of  our  hills  lies  the 
little  village  of  Lanesboro'  —  the  very  fondling  of 
Nature.  Thither  turns  never  the  good  mother  her 
wrinkled  front;  near  pressing  as  the  mountains  clasp 
the  narrow  valley,  you  must  not  look  among  them  for 
frowning  precipices,  or  earthquake-rifted  chasms. 
High  into  the  air  their  summits  press,  but  not  in 
jagged  peaks  —  only  with  the  full,  round  swelling 
of  loving  breasts,  upon  which  you  may  repose,  if  you 
will,  in  the  gentlest  of  summer  reveries. 

There  is  one  eminence  —  in  patriotic  gratitude 
they  call  it  Constitution  Hill  —  with  such  a  winsome, 
neighborly  look  to  it,  that  in  our  streets,  miles 
away,  it  seems  near  as  your  own  garden.  If  you 
have  in  you  any  yearnings  at  all  after  beauty,  I  am 
sure  you  cannot  look  upon,  and  not  be  irresistibly 
drawn  to  it,  to  be  lifted  up    gently  and   humanly, 


168  •  TAGHCONIC. 

above  the  baser  things  of  earth.  Lying  under  its 
druidical  oaks,  or  seated,  farther  up,  upon  a  pearl- 
white  quartz  rock,  in  the  shade  of  a  whispering  birch, 
you  will  see  below  you,  groves  and  farms,  and  broad, 
fresh  meadows,  with  laughing  lake  and  winding 
rivulets  —  like  silver  embroidery  on  the  green  ban- 
ner of  Erin. 

Many  fair  villages,  as  well,  wiU  dot  the  scene, 
whose  names  —  if  you  do  not  know  —  I  hope  you 
will  never  ask,  but  be  content  to  remember,  that 
under  each  roof  of  them  all,  human  lives  are  wear- 
ing themselves  out.  Then  let  your  own  heart  in- 
terpret for  you  what  the  overlooking  woods  whisper. 
If  you  know  well  the  story  of  one  hearth-stone, 
think  what  a  thrilling  tale  it  is;  and  if,  in  your  re- 
veries upon  the  hill-tops,  you  multii^ly  that  marvellous 
but  common  story  into  the  thousand  dwellings  of 
the  valley,  the  resultant  mass  shall  be  mightier  than 
the  mountains  which  encompass  it. 

I  could  point  you  to  an  antique  mansion  —  a  grey 
spot  it  appears  in  the  far  distance,  with  no  over- 
hanging cloud  to  distinguish  it  —  at  whose  story  I 
am  deeply  moved,  as  often  as  I  look  upon  it.  The 
splendors  and  the  shadows,  which  have  by  turns 
darkened  and  illumined  its  chambers,  pass  and  repass 
in  spectral  reiteration,  over  my  spirit.  Whether  I 
will  or  not,  come  the  ghosts  of  fleeting  joys,  irradi- 
cable  sorrows;  the  loftiness  of  human  pride  and 
the  lowliness  of  pride's  abasement,  which  have  passed 
and  left  no  record  there;  and  yet  that  grey  old 
homestead  is  no   accursed  roof,  devoted  to  misery 


LANESBOKOUGH.  169 

from  its  foundation,  but  one  even  such  as  its  fellows 
are.  Ah  !  if  we  could  look  within  the  seemly  exte- 
rior of  any  home  —  if  we  could  penetrate  the  heart's 
chambers  of  any  man,  w^hat  might  not  meet  us  there  ? 
Those  glowing  windows  which  gleam  so  cheerily  on 
our  evening  path,  by  what  funereal  torches  may 
they  not  be  lighted?  Those  radiant  faces  which 
meet  us  smilingly  in  our  noonday  walk  by  what  in- 
fernal passions  may  they  not  be  driven  on  ?  So, 
under  the  green  and  smiling  earth,  lie  pent  the  hidden 
fires,  and  help  the  genial  sun  to  quicken  the  blossom 
and  ripen  the  fruit. 

This  Constitution  Hill  must  be  a  great  promoter 
of  reverie.  I  have  a  friend  —  a  bachelor  Jriend  — 
who,  no  sooner  is  he  seated  upon  it,  than  off  he  goes 
dreaming  over  the  whole  valley,  in  a  very  marvelous 
way.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  a  dwelling  in  sight, 
from  Greylock  to  Yocun's  Seat,  that  he  has  not,  at 
some  time,  made  hmi^Qli  pater  faniiUas  in  it.  Bring 
him  up  hither,  and  his  respect  for  the  Tenth  Com- 
mandment vanishes  like  the  mist  of  the  valley. 
Another  friend  -of  mine  —  an  artist  —  never  looks 
down  from  this  hill,  but  —  presto  !  change  !  —  the 
hard  work  of  a  century  is  all  gone,  and  the  i*ed 
Indian  comes  back  again,  with  wild-wood  and  wig- 
wam, council  fire  and  hunting  ground.  So  you,  if  you 
come  wdthin  the  charmed  circle  of  our  hill's  shaven 
crown,  may,  perchance,  work  some  wonderful  phan- 
tasmagoric changes. 

I  do  not  know  how  it  all  comes  about.     Perhaps 

some  good  genius  has  cast  a  spell  upon  the  sjiot  —  a 
15 


170  TAGHCONIC. 

mode  of  solving  such  difficulties  to  which  I  confess 
myself  prone,  being  naturally  of  a  superstitious  as 
well  as  lymphatic  turn  of  mind. 

It  may  be  only  another  fancy  of  mine,  but  the 
leaves  here  seem  to  have  a  perfection  of  beauty  not 
attained  elsewhere.  Nature's  work  is  finished  with 
more  care;  the  curves  are  cut  with  a  more  accurate 
grace,  and  the  green  more  faithfully  laid  on.  In  the 
Fall,  too,  the  rich  enamellings  are  done  with  greater 
depth  of  coloring,  and  without  shrivelling  u]d  the 
work  in  the  process,  as  the  careless  elves  are  very 
apt  to  do  in  other  groves.  The  specimens  of  their 
workmanship  which  I  have  seen  here  were  perfect 
gems  in  their  way.  You  shall  not  desire  to  see  a 
more  gorgeous  sight  than  Constitution  Hill  in  Oc- 
tober. 

Just  on  the  western  declivity  is  a  good  sized  cavern, 
which,  a  witty  lady  thinks,  may  be  the  home  of  these 
elfin  workmen;  but  in  spite  of  the  high  authority,  I 
must  doubt;  such  underground  tenements  are  more 
fit  dwelling  places  for  bears,  wolves,  and  such  like 
ugly  gnomes,  than  for  any  gentle  "spirits  whatever. 
No,  ours  are 

"  Some  gay  creatures  of  the  elements. 
Who  in  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  live 
And  play  'i  the  plighted  clouds." 

Descending  from  the  hill,  you  may  wander  up  the 
stream  which  flows  at  its  base.  If  a  follower  of  the 
"  gentle  craft  of  angling,"  you  will  not  neglect  to  lie 
awhile  where  some  thick-leaved  maple  overshadows  a 


LANESBOROUGH.  171 

deep  pool,  where  you  may  drop  your  line  with  the 
reasonable  hope  of  bringing  to  shore  a  dozen  fine 
figh  __  perhaps  even  the  "  Hermit  Trout "  himself  who 
is  believed  to  haunt  these  pools,  and  only  dimple  the 
shallows  in  the  pale  moonlight; — a  wary  old  fellow  he, 

•'  Too  shrewd 
To  be  by  a  wading  boy  pulled  out  I " 

But  I^  trust  you  are  no  patron  of  this  treacherous 

sport.     You  were  better  to  sit  on  some  warm  bank 

of  green-sward,  or   dangling  your   feet   over  some 

rustic  bridge,  to  watch  the  smoothly  gliding  current, 

and 

"  The  shadows  of  sun-gilt  ripples 
On  the  pebbly  bed  of  a  brook." 

There  is  no  wine,  or  oil  of  gladness,  which  has 
such  a  balm  for  the  wounded  spirit  as  the  soft  mur- 
murs of  a  rural  brooklet. 

Wandering  on,  you  may,  if  you  are  fortunate  as  I 
have  been,  sometimes  catch  a  glimpse  into  dream- 
land —  like  a  vignette  to  an  old  romance,  of  a  youth 
'seated  under  a  spreading  elm,  with  a  guitar  in  his 
hand  and  a  maiden  by  his  side;  or  even  catch  Titania 
shooting  grasshoppers  with  elfin  arrows  among  the 
ox-eyed  daisies  and  buttercups.  When  I  was  a  citizen 
I  used  to  think  such  things  confined  to  poetry  and 
Spain;  but  here,  in  the  quiet  days  of  summer,  things 
often  occur  which  convince  one  of  the  truth  of  Hood's 
remark,  tliat  '*  it  is  dangerous  to  sw^ar  to  the  truth 
or  falsehood  of  a  romance,  even  of  one's  own  making." 


172  TAGHCONIC. 

On  a  gentle  hillock,  by  whose  side  the  stream  flows 
in  deep  willow  shade,  is  the  village  grave-yard.  Do 
not  fail  to  enter  it.  Among  its  thick-clustering 
monuments  you  can  linger  with  best  profit,  undis- 
turbed by  quaintly  ludicrous  epitaphs,  or  monstrous 
heraldries  of  death.  The  touching  inscriptions  on 
the  simple  marbles  bespeak  alike  the  chastened  spirit 
and  the  cultivated  mind.  What  wild  woe  —  paternal, 
filial,  fraternal,  and  conjugal  —  this  narrow  spot  has 
witnessed,  I  shrink  from  recalling.  The  marble  bears 
record  only  of  the  subdued  grief  and  the  Christian 
hope;  the  story  of  the  early  woe,  when  the  one  joy 
of  life  perished  —  when  "  the  young  green  bole  was 
marked  for  f ellage,"  is  not  told  to  the  stranger's  eye, 
and  is  sacred  from  the  stranger's  pen.  Yet,  for  that 
stranger  is  the  place  deeply  consecrated;  how  holy, 
then,  to  those  whose  best  of  earth  is  mingled  with  its 
dust.  I  am  here  often  reminded  of  a  beautiful 
thought  of  Richter:  "The  ancients  had  it,  that  not 
even  the  ashes  of  the  dead  should  be  embarked  with 
the  living,  for  fear  of  the  storm  which  would  be  sure 
to  follow.  We  have  learned  better,  and  know  th?t. 
to  be  accompanied  on  the  voyage  of  life  by  the 
memory  of  the  dead  brings  calm  and  not  storm;  he 
who  always  feels  one  loss,  will  be  less  accessible  to 
new  sorrow." 

The  Old  Worshippee. 

In  this  grave-yard  I  once  witnessed  a  scene,  so 
touching  and  solemn,  and  yet  so  far  removed  from 
any  agon}^  of  woe,  that  to  speak  of  it  can  open  anew 


THE    OLD    WORSHIPPER.  173 

no  half  healed  wound.  It  was  one  of  those  occasions 
when  the  sorrows  of  earth  are  so  gloriously  trans- 
muted into  the  joys  of  Heaven,  that  we,  who  remain 
"  of  the  earth,  earthy,"  look  upon  the  transfiguration 
in  far-off  wonder;  while  philosophy  strives  in  vain 
to  characterize  emotions,  in  which  the  consoler, 
Christ,  enables  the  mourner  to  mingle  —  as  in  His 
own  mysterious  nature  —  so  much  of  human  sorrow 
with  so  much  of  Divine  confidence. 

Not  far  from  the  village  grave-yard,  is  the  church — 
a  modest  gothic  structure,  built  of  the  grey  stone  of 
the  country.  This  was  once,  for  many  months,  my 
own  place  of  worship;  and  still,  on  a  pleasant 
Sabbath  morning,  I  love  to  stroll  to  it.  The  bracing 
walk  of  some  half  dozen  miles,  through  a  delightful 
region,  is  no  unworthy  preparation  for  the  devotions 
of  the  sanctuary;  and,  through  the  day,  the  voices 
of  woods  and  waters  seem  to  mingle  with  the  deep 
responses  of  the  congregation.  Nature,  with  her 
thousand  voices,  joins  in  the  jubilant  chorus,  and  in 
subdued  tones  echoes  the  supplications  of  the  solemn 
litany. 

The  first  morning  upon  which  I  entered  this 
church  I  was  struck  with  the  venerable  figure  of  an 
old  man,  who  sat  in  front  of  me,  completely  absorbed 
in  worship.  Never  had  my  ideal  of  Christian  de- 
votion been  so  completely  filled;  no  painter  could 
have  desired  a  finer  model.  His  whole  soul  seemed 
informed  and  penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  the 
liturgy,  in  whose  eloquent  words  he  poured  forth 
his  soul  to  God. 


174  TAGHCONIC. 

His  veteran  form  was  tall  and  martial  in  its  bear- 
ing; in  the  deep  lines  of  his  countenance  you  could 
not  mistake  the  characters  of  strong  intellect,  self 
respect,  and  unbending  firmness  of  purpose.  You 
would  say  he  was  one  not  likely  to  yield  much  ob- 
sequious homage  to  his  fellow  man;  but  here,  in  the 
presence  of  Jehovah,  his  whole  bearing  was  con- 
formed to  the  most  lowly,  yet  manly,  humility. 
Nothing  could  be  more  impressive  than  the  earnest 
tones  with  which  he  joined  in  the  services  of  the 
church. 

Sabbath  after  Sabbath,  my  eye  sought  and  found 
him  —  the  most  noticeable  figure  in  the  room  — 
until  one  summer's  day,  when  I  entered,  the  people 
were  waiting,  in  that  hush  of  expectation  which  in 
a  country  congregation  tells  one  that  a  funeral  is 
about  to  take  place.  On  my  way  to  the  church  I 
had  lingered  a  few  moments,  as  was  my  wont,  in 
the  grave-yard  —  and  had  found  an  open  grave  in 
the  lot  of  the  venerable  worshipper.  I  now  looked 
to  his  pew;  it  was  vacant;  and  I  at  once  guessed 
that  it  was  he  who  was  about  to  enter  the  sacred 
portals  for  the  last  time.  But  it  was  not  so:  a 
whisper  from  a  neighbor  informed  me  that  it  was  the 
wife  of  the  old  man  who  was  no  more  —  the  wife  of 
his  youth. 

Presently,  as  the  procession  entered,  I  saw  the 
widowed  husband  following  close  behind  the  coffin, 
his  head  a  little  bent,  as  if  to  approach  nearer  the 
form  of  the  sleeper,  and  his  voice  a  little  more  tremu- 


THE  OLD  WOESHIPPEK.  1V5 

lous  than  usual,  as  he  joined  in  the  Scripture  ap- 
pointed to  be  then  read. 

The  coffin  was  laid  before  the  altar,  and  the  old 
man  took  his  seat,  with  that  forced  calmness  where 
the  quivering  lip  shows  the  struggle  hardly  yet  over, 
and  the  victory  only  half  won. 

As  the  sublime  promises  of  future  reunion  were 
read;  as  the  sympathizing  tones  of  consolation  fell 
from  the  lips  of  the  preacher,  I  thought  the  few  re- 
maining clouds  vanished  from  the  aged  face,  and  a 
perfect  serenity  overspread  it.  When  the  sermon 
was  ended,  with  an  aspect  almost  cheerful,  he  rose 
up,  to  follow  to  her  burial-place  all  that  remained  on 
earth  of  her,  with  whom,  for  more  than  fifty  years, 
he  had  walked,  in  sunshine  and  in  storm.  What 
emotions  were  at  work  within,  none  could  read  — 
the  fixed  eye,  the  firm-set  lip,  revealed  nothing  — 
the  prying  eye  of  curiosity,  the  anxious  gaze  of 
friendship,  returned  alike  baffled.  And  yet,  with 
what  overwhelming  power  must  the  busy  memory 
of  that  lonely  old  man  have  brought  back  the  thick- 
crowding  events  of  half  a  century,  from  the  first 
thrilling  meeting  to  this  last  brief  parting  !  It  is 
such  moments  which  must  disclose  most  viv'dly  to 
the  mind  of  Eld  what  this  life  is,  which  passeth  like  a 
dream.  Such  might  have  been  the  retrospect  of  the 
mourner  of  three  score  years  and  ten,  as  he  took  his 
few  brief  steps  from  the  temple  to  the  tomb  —  or, 
perchance,  his  better  spirit  reached  forward  to  a 
glorious  meeting  in  that  home  to  .which  sorrow  and 
parting  can  never  come. 


176  TAGHCONIC. 

The  coffin  was  lowered  to  its  place;  the  people 
gathered  around.  The  pastor  began  that  beautiful 
service,  in  which  the  church  commits  earth  to  its 
kindred  earth,  and  proclaims  the  spirit  returned  to 
the  God  who  gave  it.  There,  at  the  clergyman's 
side,  stood  the  tall  and  veteran  form  of  the  mourner, 
his  thin  grey  hairs  streaming  in  the  mountain  wind, 
as  he  repeated,  firmly,  the  proper  responses.  For  a 
while  he  looked  steadfastly  down  into  the  grave  — 
but  as  the  pastor  read:  "  And  the  corruptible  bodies 
of  those  who  sleep  in  Him  shall  be  changed  and 
made  like  unto  His  own  glorious  body,"  the  de- 
pressed eyes  were  raised  to  Heaven  with  an  expres- 
sion of  most  triumphant  and  joyous  hope.  The 
struggle  was  over.  The  grave  had  lost  its  sting; 
"Death  was  swallowed  up  in  victory."  It  was  a 
spectacle  most  touching  and  sublime. 

Yet  a  few  moments,  and  the  grave  was  closed; 
the  people  separated  to  their  homes  —  and  the 
mourner,  likewise,  departed  to  his  —  but  for  not  long. 
He  was  soon  missed  from  his  accustomed  seat  in  the 
sanctuary.  With  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  he  went  down 
into  the  grave  —  and  the  grass  which  in  the  spring 
grew  upon  his  wife's  mound,  waved  over  two. 

There  is  another  and  older  graveyard  in  the  town, 
white  with  its  multitude  of  marble  testimonials. 
Here  there  used  to  be  a  tomb,  carved  with  masonic 
symbols,  and  having  a  heavy  iron  knocker  on  its 
door.  Here,  often  at  midnight  —  whether  the  still 
moon  shed  her  pale  light  on  the  ghastly  tombstones, 
or  the  dark  and  howling  temj^est  was  on  —  a  criazed 


THE  OLD  WORSHIPPER.  177 

woman  used  to  enter  the  grave-encumbered  ground, 
and  strike  such  a  peal  on  the  ringing  iron  that  the 
sleepers  in  the  near  dwellings  started  trembling  - 
from  their  slumbers.  There  is  something  terribly 
significant  to  me  in  that  gloomy  visitation  of  the 
tomb.  What  earnestness  of  agonized  longing  for 
their  repose,  may  have  impelled  that  wild  nocturnal 
summons  to  the  dead.  "  Wake  !  wake  !  ye  peace- 
ful dwellers  in  the  tomb,"  perhaps  that  weary, 
brainsick  woman  said:  "  Open  your  dark  jjortals  and 
give  me  rest  beside  ye.  Wake  !  —  the  living  turn 
from  me,  and  do  you  also  spurn  me  ?  —  me,  who 
shudder  not  at  any  loathsomeness  of  yours  ?  " 

But  cheerier  thoughts  for  the  cheerful  light  of 
summer  —  and,  passing  the  mildewed  realms  of 
death,  do  you  hie  away  to  some  beautiful  hill  — 
Pratt's,  Prospect,  St.  Luke's,  or  ''The  Noppit;"  or 
to  some  fair  valley  —  whither  I  may  not  stay  to  ac- 
company you. 

Lanesboro  was  the  birth  place  of  that  queerest 
and  wisest  of  humorists,  the  Yankee  Solomon,  Josh 
Billings:  7iee  Henry  Savage  Shaw.  The  people  of 
the  village  used  to  affect  a  certain  rural  English 
style,  and  the  older  inhabitants  still  love  to  speak  of 
it  as  "  The  Borough."  Hon.  Henry  Shaw,  the  father 
of  our  humorist,  and  one  of  the  ablest  statesmen 
who  have  represented  Berkshire  in  congress,  was 
the  Lord  of  the  Manor,  and  quite  held  his  own  in 
most  of  the  traits  which  are  conventionally  ascribed 
to  that  class  of  gentry  in  Englanxl.  But  there  was 
one  notable  variation;  he  was  no  Episcopalian,  but 


178  TAGHCONIC. 

always  occupied  with  his  family,  the  square  and 
spacious  pew  of  state  in  the  Congregational  meeting- 
house. 

The  rector  of  St.  Luke's,  although  bearing  the 
same  name  as  the  squire,  was  proud  of  his  descent 
from  the  old  Brentons,  and  clung  fondly  to  the 
customs  of  his  ancestral  church,  as  well  as  to  its 
doctrines.  Overflowing  with  genial  wit,  charitable, 
given  to  hospitality,  and  devoted  especially  to  the 
kindlier  duties  of  his  priestly  ofiice,  he  might  have 
furnished  Goldsmith  or  Praed,  a  model  for  their  de- 
lightful pictures  of  the  English  country  clergyman. 
A  man  greatly  to  be  loved. 

In  matters  of  religious  dogma  and  form,  there  was 
not  that  happy  accord  between  the  squire  and  the 
rector,  which  usually  prevails  between  similar  classes 
in  England;  but,  although  both  seemed  to  belong  to 
another  state  of  society  than  that  which  prevailed 
outside  of  the  Borough,  each  seemed  exactly  fitted 
for  the  niche  in  the  great  temple  —  the  world  —  in 
which  it  had  pleased  his  Maker  to  place  him.  That  is, 
so  far  as  his  home  in  the  Borough  was  concerned  — 
outside  of  that  the  squire,  at  least,  who  tot)k  a  large 
part  in  public  affairs,  fared  like  others  who  mix  in 
the  mad  whii'l  of  politics  and  finance,  and  get  more  or 
less  of  their  deserts,  as  it  may  chance.  But  in  their 
retired  niches  at  home,  each  would  gladly  have 
preserved  every  dear  antique  ornament,  however 
grotesque,  of  the  life  which  surrounded  him.  But 
the  well-born  and  polished  clergyman  and  the  stately, 
courtly  squire  were  not  the  only  original  characters 


HENEY   SHAW.  179 

in  the  Borough :  it  was  full  of  them,  from  these  con- 
spicuous specimens  down  to  the  sardonic  dealer  in 
oysters  and  poultry  —  nay,  to  the  very  blackest 
picker  of  black-berries  in  "  The  Gulf." 

Such  was  the  early  home  in  which  Josh  Billings 
meditated  fun  and  —  I  have  not  a  particle  of  doubt  — 
mischief.  Here  he  made  curious  observation  of  the 
odd  people  about  the  village,  and  perhaps  treasured 
up  the  wise  and  piquant  sayings  for  which  the  squire 
and  the  parson  were  renowned,  the  county  over.  I 
will  cite  one  of  the  squire's,  which  he  ejaculated  with 
some  emphasis,  although  he  had  the  smallest  possible 
personal  experience  of  its  truth:  "  Confound  " —  that 
is  not  exactly  the  word,  but  I  translate  — "  Confound 
poverty:  it  never  did  any  body  any  good  !  "  What 
do  you  think  of  that  for  truthfulness,  compared  with 
the  old  sentimental  philosophy  on  the  same  point  ? 


XY. 

LAKE  ONOTA  AND  ITS  WHITE  DEER. 

Can  I  forget?  no,  never,  sucli  a  scene; 
So  full  of  witchery  — Roger^  Italy. 


I  said,  the  other  day,  that  Pontoosiic  is  not  quite 
my  favorite  among  our  mountain  lakes.  Onota  is. 
Of  all  the  hundred  lakelets  of  Berkshire  —  exquisitely 
lovely  as  many  of  them  are  —  I  think  there  is  not 
one  which  equals  this  in  grace  of  outline,  or  in  its 
rich  back-ground  of  wood,  field  and  hill.  It  lies  in 
an  elevated  valley  only  two  miles  west  of  our  main 
street ;  and,  if  you  will  come  with  me  to  the  com- 
manding elevation  upon  its  south-west  shore,  and 
look  across  its  broad  and  tranquil  surface,  towards 
Constitution  Hill  and  Greylock,  you  will  confess  that 
I  have  not  too  highly  extolled  its  charms.  I  am 
sure,  at  least,  that  I  never  heard  such  an  admiring 
.shout  over  any  other  piece  of  landscape  as  went  up 
from  scores  of  Stockbridge  and  Albany  field-meeting 
visitors  when  this  view  was  suddenly  revealed  to 
them,  one  glorious  summer  day.  I  should  have  bid 
you,  as  you  approached  the  lake,  take  note  of  the 
twin  elms  which  crown  the  hill  upon  its  eastern 
side  and  form  a  perfect  arch  —  St.  Mary's  Arch,  they 


LAKE    ONOTA.  181 

call  it.  But  you  may  observe  it  from  many  points 
in  the  village. 

When  I  first  wrote  of  this  lake,  I  said  with  truth 
"  Of  all  our  enticing  groves,  none  are  more  perfect 
than  the  woods  upon  the  eastern  shore  of  Onota. 
Few  have  so  hermit-like  a  solitude,  yet  none  are  so 
far  removed  from  a  desolate  loneliness.  These 
shades  are  sometimes  very  solemn,  but  one  need  not 
be  very  sad  in  them.  A  merry  company  might  be 
very  gay."  As  to  a  large  extent  of  wood,  this  de- 
scription still  holds  generally  true,  although  costly 
mansions  have  arisen  by  the  lake-side,  and  streets 
are  creeping  towards  it.  AYe  must  still  ramble 
through  woods,  and  for  a  little  space  scramble 
through  brambles,  to  reach  its  northern  shore. 

But  it  is  worth  the  trouble;  for  the  view  south- 
ward is  wild  and  picturesque.  I  have  heard  artists 
commend  it  as  the  best  to  be  had  of  the  lake.  I 
cannot  so  think;  but  its  peculiar  formation  is  cer- 
tainly here  displayed  to  the  best  possible  advantage, 
and  is  very  curious.  At  about  one-quarter  of  its 
length  from  its  northern  end,  it  is  divided  by  a 
narrow  isthmus;  the  northern  j^ortion  being  the 
work  of  those  industrious  and  skillful  engineers,  the 
beavers  —  who  formed  it  by  building  a  dam  across 
a  small  stream  which  still  runs  through  it,  over- 
flowing their  embankment  in  sufficient  quantities  to 
turn  the  wheels  of  large  factories  at  some  distance 
below.  The  main  or  southern  lake  is  fed  by  springs 
and  Taconic  mountain-brooks. 

The  fringed  gentian,  the  cardinal  and  other  gor- 
16 


182  TAGHCONIC. 

geous  wild  flowers,  grow  in  profusion  at  the  north 
of  the  lake.  The  more  pleasant  resort,  however,  is 
upon  the  south,  where,  of  a  dreamy  summer  after- 
noon, one  can  recline  in  luxurious  reveries,  as  he 
watches  the  image  of  the  mountains,  sharply  re- 
flected in  the  clear  waters;  sometimes  in  the  green 
leafiness  of  June,  sometimes  in  the  melancholy  gor- 
geousness  of  autumn,  or  better  still,  when  the  haze 
of  the  Indian  summer  invests  them  with  hues  of 
pearly  delicacy  and  richness. 

Perhaps,  while  you  look,  a  broad-winged  eagle 
will  appear  above  you,  soaring  and  sweeping  in  the 
silent  sky,  till  it  vanishes  into  the  heavens;  or  a  blue 
king-fisher  will  perch  awhile  upon  yonder  blasted 
bough,  and  then  suddenly  darting  into  the  water 
bear  away  its  writhing  prey  to  some  hidden  haunt. 
Other  gentler  birds  will  sit  a-tilt  on  the  lithe  green 
branches  —  and,  if  it  be  in  early  summer,  serenade 
your  slumberous  ear. 

Near  by,  the  cattle  will  stand  in  groups  on  a 
pleasant  point  of  land  which  runs  out  into  the  lake, 
and  which  they  seem  to  love  better  than  other  spots. 

Around  these  shores  were  some  of  the  earliest 
settlements;  and,  before  the  intrusion  of  the  white 
man,  they  were  the  favorite  haunt  of  the  Indian.  A 
gentleman  digging  into  a  bed  of  peat  and  marl,  upon 
his  farm  on  the  east  of  the  lake,  found,  at  great 
depth,  stakes  pointed  artificially  —  evidently  the 
remains  of  wigwams  built  ages  ago,  when,  perhaps, 
the  marl  bed  was  a  lakelet  as  crystal  clear  as  Onota. 
Remains  of  the  rude  arts  of  the  later  Indians  used 


LAKE    ONOTA.  183 

to  be  found  in  the  neighboring  fields;  but  now  they 
are  rarely,  if  ever,  turned  up  by  the  plough. 

Upon  the  eminence  to  which  I  first  took  you,  a 
fort  of  some  pretense  was  built,  during  the  second 
French  and  Indian  war,  for  the  protection  of  the 
settlements  at  the  south  and  east;  and  relics  are 
still  occasionally  found  of  the  regiments  which  rested 
here  on  their  way  to  the  campaigns  which  ended  in 
the  conquest  of  Canada.  There  were  four  of  these 
forts  in  Pittsfield,  garrisoned  partly  by  soldiers  sent 
by  helpful  Connecticut;  and  partly  by  the  settlers, 
who,  compelled  to  abandon  their  log  cabins,  took 
their  families  with  them  to  these  places  of  refuge. 
And  a  jolly  time  they  seem  to  have  had  of  it,  shut 
up  there  cozily  together  —  a  perpetual  tea-party. 

The  commissariat  accounts  are,  some  of  them,  still 
preserved,  and  afford  us  a  peep  at  the  housekeeping 
on  Fort  Hill  a  century  and  a  quarter  ago.  They 
tell  us  that  the  larder  of  the  garrison  was  plentifully 
supplied  with  venison  at  five  pence  a  pound;  wild 
turkey  at  a  shilling,  and  beef  at  twelve  pence. 
Trout  were  to  be  had  by  the  hundred  for  the  catch- 
ing, and  partridges  for  the  killing.  But  the  old  ac- 
counts are  chiefly  occupied  with  charges  for  spirituous 
liquors  in  drams  of  rum,  bowls  of  punch  and  mugs 
of  flip.  Persons  of  the  lower  rank  took  their  drams; 
their  superiors  revelled  in  punch;  while  the  more 
temperate,  and  the  ladies,  were  generally  content 
with  the  mild  beverage,  flip.  On  some  days  merri- 
ment grew  merrier,  as  on  a  certain  sfecond  of  Novem- 
ber —  perhaps  thanksgiving  day  —  when  the  gallant 


184  TAGHCONIC. 

Captain  Hinman,  of  the  Connecticut  troops,  is 
charged  with  several  punches  for  himself,  and  "  a 
mug  of  flip  for  Mrs.  Piercy."  And,  just  below,  we 
are  startled  by  this  entry  :  "  The  wife  of  Deacon 
Crofoot,  for  a  mug  of  flip  —  a  kiss."  A  merry  party 
of  fair  women  and  brave  men,  there  must  have  been 
that  chill  November  evening  in  the  old  fort;  maugre 
the  possibility  that  a  legion  of  Onuhgungo  fiends 
would  be  howling  for  their  scalps  before  morning. 
But  antiquarian  research  dissipates  any  visions  of 
the  "  rosy  juncture  of  four  melting  lips  "  as  a  result 
of  that  charge  against  the  Deacon's  wife,  by  show- 
ing that  the  good  dame  was  then  sixty-six  years  old. 
Which  doubtless  is  the  reason  that  the  account  is 
not  recorded  to  have  been  ever  liquidated. 

There  are  a  couple  of  legends  about  this  Onota, 
perhaps  worth  the  telling.  The  first  is  well  authen- 
ticated, and  the  other  not  improbable,  as  legends  go. 

The  Legend  of  the  White  Deer. 

There  is  hardly  a  country  where  a  deer  ever  trod 
in  which  there  does  not  linger  some  legend  of  one 
or  more  of  these  graceful  animals,  either  wholly  or 
in  part  of  a  supernatural  whiteness.  It  is  a  fancy 
which  seems  to  spring  spontaneously  in  the  rich  soil 
of  a  woodman's  imagination.  The  "  White  Doe  of 
Rylston,"  and  Bryant's  "White-footed  Deer,  will 
occur  to  every  one,  as  instances  of  the  use  to  which 
these  forest  tales  have  been  put  in  poetry.  Traditions 
of  a  similar  character  are  said  to  exist  in  many  tribes 


THE    WHITE  DEI;R.  185 

of  American  Indians,  and  among  others,  those  of  the 
Housatonic  valley. 

A  gentleman  tells  me  that  in  the  old  witch  times  — 
long  after  the  Salem  delusion  ended  —  there  were  no 
firmer  believers  in  that  sort  of  supernaturalism  than 
the  peoj^le  who  lived  about  Lake  Onota;  one  of 
whom  was  his  own  grand-father,  of  whom  he  relates 
the  following  anecdote: 

Coming  in  one  day  from  an  unsuccessful  day's 
hunting,  he  was  surprised  to  see  a  white  deer  stoop- 
ing down  to  drink  at  Point  Onota  —  the  little  cape 
which  extends  into  the  lake  at  its  south  end.  In- 
stantly his  rifle  was  at  his  shoulder;  but  before  he 
could  pull  the  trigger,  his  dog  howled,  and  the 
startled  deer  fled  into  the  wood.  The  marvellous 
story  of  the  white  deer  of  the  Mohegans  at  once 
occurred  to  him,  and  it  entered  into  his  head  that 
his  dog  was  bewitched;  or  rather  that  an  old  hag 
who  lived  in  "  The  North  Woods  " —  a  section  on 
the  north-western  side  of  the  lake  —  had  assumed 
his  form;  which,  among  other  freakish  powers,  she 
had  the  perilous  reputation  of  being  able  to  do.  With 
never  a  doubt,  therefore,  that  he  was  all  the  while 
belaboring  the  witch,  our  disappointed  hunter  waled 
his  poor  hound  till  the  woods  howled  again  with  his 
piteous  cries. 

This  done,  he  posted  away  in  hot  haste  to  the 
cabin  of  the  old  crone,  and  demanded  that  she  should 
show  him  her  back  —  never  doubting  that  he  would 
find  upon  it  the  marks  of  the  stripes  he  had  inflicted 
upon  his  miserable  beast.     Of  course  the  old  woman 


186  TAGHCONIC. 

was  in  a  tempest  of  wrath  when  she  learned  the 
errand  of  her  visitor;  and  it  is  believed  that  he  made 
a  retreat  more  discreet  and  rapid  than  valiant,  under 
a  sudden  shower  of  blows  from  that  notorious  article 
of  house-hold  furniture  which  was  supposed  to  serve 
its  mistress  the  double  purpose  of  a  broom  by  day 
and  an  aerial  steed  by  night,  and  which  now  answered 
another  very  excellent  turn. 

Another  gentleman,  to  whom  I  mentioned  this 
anecdote,  tells  me  an  aboriginal  legend  of  this  same 
White  Deer. 

"  Long  before  the  Englishman  set  foot  in  the 
Housatonic  valley,"  he  said,  "  the  Indians  used  to 
notice  a  deer,  of  complete  and  spotless  white,  which 
came  often,  in  the  summer  and  autumn  months,  to 
drink  at  Onota.  Against  this  gentle  creature,  no  red 
man's  arrow  was  ever  pointed;  for,  in  their  simple 
faith,  they  believed  that  with  her  light  and  airy  step 
she  brought  good  fortune  to  the  dwellers  in  the 
valley.  '  So  long,'  the  prophecy  ran,  'So  long  as  the 
snow-white  doe  comes  to  drink  at  Onota,  so  long 
famine  shall  not  blight  the  Indian's  harvest,  nor 
pestilence  come  nigh  his  lodge,  nor  f  oeman  lay  waste 
his  country.'  In  the  graceful  animal,  the  tribe  re- 
cognized and  loved  their  good  genius.  He  among 
them  who  dared  to  harm  her  would  have  met  swift 
punishment  as  a  sacrilegious  wretch  and  traitor." 

Thus  protected  by  the  love  of  her  simple  friends, 
year  after  year,  soon  as  the  white  blossoms  clothed 
the  cherry,  the  sacred  deer  came  to  drink  at  her 
chosen  fountain;  bringing  good  omens  to  all,  and 


THE    WHITE    DEER.  187 

especially  to  the  maiden  wlio  first  espied  her,  glitter- 
ing brightly  among  the  foliage.  Finally  she  brought 
with  her  a  fawn,  if  possible,  of  more  faultless  purity 
and  grace  than  herself;  and  that  year  more  than  the 
usual  plenty  and  happiness  reigned  around  the  lake. 
Not  long  after  this,  the  first  French  and  Indian  war 
broke  out,  and  a  young  French  officer  —  Montalbert 
by  name  —  was  sent  to  incite  the  Housatonic  Indians 
to  join  in  the  league  against  the  English  colonies. 

In  his  sacred  character  as  an  ambassador,  he  was 
welcomed  to  their  lodges,  had  a  seat  at  their  council 
fire,  and  listened  eagerly  to  their  wild  and  marvellous 
tales.  Among  others,  he  heard  the  story  of  the  White 
Deer;  and,  however  incredulous  of  her  sanctity,  suffi- 
ciently admired  the  description  of  her  beauty. 
Among  those  reckless  and  ambitious  adventurers 
who  set  up  the  standard  of  France  in  Canada,  it  was 
a  passion  to  carry  away  some  wonderful  trophy  of 
the  forest  domain,  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  their  sovereign. 
Even  the  persons  of  the  savages  had  thus  been  j)re- 
sented  at  the  Court  of  Versailles,  and  royal  favor 
had  not  been  niggard  in  rewarding  the  donors  of  the 
more  unique  and  costly  troj)hies  of  barbaric  spl«endor. 

It  was  for  such  reasons  that  an  uncontrollable  de- 
sire to  possess  the  skin  of  the  White  Deer  took  pos- 
session of  Montalbert.  He  already  enjoyed,  in 
imagination,  the  reward  which  could  not  fail  him 
who  brought  so  rare  and  beautiful  a  peltry  to  the 
splendid  Louis. 

Not  fully  aware  of  the  veneration  which  the  Deer 
received  from  the  natives,  he  first  offered  liberal 


188  TAGHCONIC. 

rewards  to  the  hunter  who  should  bring  him  the 
coveted  spoil.  For  half  the  proffered  price,  the  chiefs 
would,  perhaps,  have  alienated  their  fairest  hunting- 
grounds;  but  the  proposition  to  destroy  their  sacred 
i)eer  was  received  with  utter  horror  and  indignation. 
It  was  gently  hinted  to  Montalbert  that  a  repetition 
of  the  offer  might  ensure  him  the  fate  he  designed 
for  the  Deer. 

But  the  Frenchman  was  not  of  a  nature  to  be  so 
baffled.  He  had  noticed  that  one  of  the  native  war- 
riors —  Wondo,  by  name  —  was  already  debased  by 
the  use  of  the  white  man's  fire-water,  of  which 
Montalbert  possessed  a  large  supply.  Concealing 
his  purposes  for  a  time,  the  adventurer  sought  out 
this  Wondo,  and  shortly  contrived  to  foment  the 
poor  fellow's  appetite  to  such  a  degree  that  he  be- 
came the  absolute  slave  of  whoever  had  it  in  his 
power  to  minister  to  his  desires. 

When  the  hunter  was  thought  to  be  sufiiciently 
besotted,  Montalbert  ventured  to  propose  to  him  a 
plan  to  secure  the  skin  of  the  White  Deer.  De- 
praved as  he  had  become,  Wondo  at  first  recoiled 
from  the  thought,  but  appetite  at  length  prevailed 
and  he  yielded  to  the  tempter. 

Years  of  unmolested  security  had  rendered  the 
Deer  so  confident  in  the  friendship  of  man  that,  when 
at  last  treachery  came,  she  proved  an  easy  victim. 
Before  conscience  could  awaken  in  the  sacrilegious 
hunter,  the  gentle  animal  was  taken  and  slain,  and 
the  ill-gotten  fur  was  in  the  possession  of  the  white 
man. 


THE    WHITE    DEER. 


No  sooner  had  Montalbert  secured-  his  prize  than, 
concealing  it  in  his  baggage,  he  set  out  for  Montreal; 
but  the  legend  hints  that  he  never  reached  the 
French  border,  and  the  beautiful  skin  of  the  Indians' 
sacred  deer  never  added  to  the  splendors  of  French 
royalty. 

Among  the  natives,  the  impious  slaughter  was  not 
suspected  until  the  fire-water  of  the  slayer  was  ex- 
pended, and  a  returning  consciousness  compelled 
him  to  confess  his  deed  of  horror,  and  to  meet  the 
speedy  vengeance  which  atoned  for  it. 

Long  and  earnest  were  the  supplications  which 
the  frightened  natives  sent  up  to  the  Great  Spirit, 
that  He  would  avert  from  the  tribe  the  punishment 
due  to  such  a  crime;  but  its  prosperity  never  again 
was  what  it  had  been,  and  its  numbers  slowly 
wasted  away. 


XVI. 
ROARING  BROOK  AND  TORY'S  GLEN. 

Fear  God,  honor  the  King. —  JSt.  Peter, 

The  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  God.  Whosoever  there- 
fore resistetli  the  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God ; 
and  they  that  resist  shall  receive  to  themselves  damnation. — 
St.  Paul. 

And  what  saith  the  Koran  ?  ' '  Speak  truth  to  thy  Prince." — 
Blue  Beard, 


"Every  state  and  almost  every  county  of  New- 
England  has  its  Roaring  Brook  —  a  mountain  stream- 
let, overhung  by  woods,  impeded  by  a  mill,  en- 
cumbered by  fallen  trees,  but  ever  rushing,  racing, 
roaring  down  through  gurgling  gullies,  and  filling 
the  forest  with  its  delicious  sound  and  freshness; 
the  drinking  places  of  home  returning  herds;  the 
mysterious  haunts  of  squirrels  and  blue  jays;  tho 
sylvan  retreat  of  school-boys,  who  frequent  it  in  the 
summer  holidays,  and  mingle  their  restless  thoughts 
with  its  restless,  exuberant,  and  rejoicing  stream.'* 

Thus  speaks  Professor  Longfellow  of  one  of  the 
most  charming  features  of  our  hillsides.  Our  Roar- 
ing Brook,  I  think  must  be  familiar  to  the  poet. 
Indeed,  it  is  shrewdly  suspected  that  it  is  the  ori- 
ginal of  that  where  Churchill  and  Kavanagh  passed 
so  delightful   a  day  with    Cecilia.  Alice,    and   the 


LONGFELLOW.  191 

schoolmaster's  wife.  If  not,  it  might  well  have  been, 
for  the  description  is  perfect;  and  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  that  the  author  was  familiar  with 
the  original.  There  is  a  shorter  road  to  it  now; 
but  that  over  which  the  author  of  Kavanagh  must 
have  driven,  is  both  so  pleasant  and  so  rich  in  me- 
mories that  I  prefer  it  still;  and  so  will  you.  We 
will  not  hurry  over  it. 

Passing  down  the  broad  elm-shaded,  old-fashioned, 
courtly  street  which  leads  east  from  the  Pittsfield 
Park,  we  come,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  rods  to  a 
bold  and  picturesque  knoll,  upon  which  stands  one 
of  those  square  old  dwellings,  such  as  it  was  the 
fashion  of  the  New  England  gentry  to  build  seventy- 
five  or  a  hundred  years  ago:  and  which  still  delight 
their  descendants,  although,  like  antiques  in  other 
branches  of  art,  they  seem  to  defy  modern  imitation. 
This  was  long  the  country  seat  of  Hon.  Nathan 
Appleton  of  Boston,  whose  wife  was  a  daughter  of 
the  builder  of  the  mansion,  and  whose  daughter  be- 
came the  wife  of  the  poet  Longfellow.  On  the 
landing  of  the  broad  stairs  at  the  end  of  its  long 
entrance  hall,  stood  the  old  clock  so  touchingly  com- 
memorated by  him: 

"  Somewhat  back  from  tlie  village  street 
Stands  the  old  fashioned  country  seat ; 
Across  its  antique  portico, 
Tall  poplar  trees  their  shadows  throw, — 
And  from  its  station  in  the  hall 
An  ancient  time  piece  says  to  all  — 
Forever,  never, " 
Never,  forever." 


192  TAGHCONIC. 

The  mansion,  now  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Thomas 
F.  Plunkett,  has  been  to  some  extent  remodelled  ex- 
ternally, but  it  preserves  all  the  features  noted  in 
Mr.  Longfellow's  poem. 

A  couple  of  miles  further  south,  on  what  is  known 
as  the  old  road  to  Lenox,  is  the  villa  built  by  Oliver 
Wendell  Holmes,  in  which  he  resided  for  several 
years.  Dr.  Holmes  had  an  hereditary  interest  in 
Pittsiield;  his  great-grand  father  Col.  Jacob  Wen- 
dell of  Boston,  with  his  kinsman,  Philip  Livingston 
of  Albany,  and  Col.  John  Stoddard  of  Northampton — 
"  the  great  New-En glander  "  —  having  been  equal 
owners  of  the  township,  six  miles  square,  before  its 
division  by  sale  among  the  first  settlers.  These 
great  proprietors  —  or  at  least  Stoddard  and  Wen- 
dell — reserved  some  of  the  best  lands  for  themselves; 
and  Col.  Wendell  making  choice  of  the  farm  on 
which  Dr.  Holmes  afterwards  built,  either  he  or  his 
son,  Judge  Oliver  Wendell  of  Revolutionary  fame, 
erected  a  mansion  upon  it  for  a  country  seat.  Li 
the  fierce  political  feuds,  before  and  during  the 
war  of  1812,  Judge  Wendell  was  a  great  stay  and 
consolation  to  the  Pittsfield  Federalists  to  whom  he 
gave  much  support,  moral  and  pecuniary.  The 
First  Church  still  cherishes  among  its  precious  relics, 
a  baptismal  basin  of  solid  silver,  which  he  presented 
to  the  Federal  section  when  it  was  divided  on  poli- 
tical issues.  I  will  continue  the  story  in  the  words 
of  Dr.  Holmes's  speech  at  the  Berkshire  Jubilee  in 
1844: 

*'  One  of  my  earliest  recollections  is  of  an  annual  pilgrimage 


BOAEING   BEOOK.  193 

made  by  my  parents  to  the  west.  The  young  horse  was 
brought  up,  fatted  by  a  week's  rest  and  high  feeding,  prancing 
and  caracoling,  to  the  door.  It  came  to  the  corner  and  was 
soon  over  the  western  hills.  He  was  gone  a  fortnight ;  and 
one  afternoon  —  it  always  seemed  to  me  a  sunny  afternoon  — 
we  saw  the  equipage  crawling  from  the  west  towards  the  old 
homestead ;  the  young  horse,  who  set  out  so  fat  and  pranc- 
ing, worn  thin  and  reduced  by  the  long  journey  —  the 
chaise  covered  with  dust ;  and  all  speaking  of  a  terrible  cru- 
sade, a  formidable  pilgrimage.  Winter-evening  stories  told 
me  where  —  to  Berkshire,  to  the  borders  of  New  York  —  to 
the  old  domain  ;  owned  so  long  that  there  seemed  to  be  a  sort 
of  hereditary  love  for  it. 

"  Many  years  passed,  and  I  travelled  down  the  beautiful 
Rhine.  I  wished  to  see  the  equally  beautiful  Hudson.  I 
found  myself  at  Albany ;  and  a  few  hours  t^-ought  me  to 
Pittsfield.  I  went  to  the  little  spot  —  the  scene  of  the  pilgrim- 
age—  a  mansion — and  found  it  surrounded  by  a  beautiful 
meadow,  through  which  the  winding  river  made  its  way  in  a 
thousand  graceful  curves.  The  mountains  reared  their  heads 
around  it.  The  blue  air,  which  makes  our  city  pale  cheeks 
again  to  deepen  with  the  hue  of  health,  coursing  about  it  pure 
and  free.  I  recognized  the  scene  of  the  annual  pilgrimage 
and  since  that  I  have  made  an  annual  visit  to  it." 

Three  or  four  years  after  the  Jubilee,  Dr.  Holmes 
built,  upon  a  round  knoll  or  hill,  near  the  old  mansion, 
a  neat  plain  villa,  commanding  a  fine  view  of  the  whole 
circle  of  Berkshire  Mountains  and  of  the  Housatonic 
winding  its  serpentine  way  through  the  Canoe  Mea- 
dows; so-called  because  the  Mohegan  Indians  used 
to  leave  there  their  frail  barks,  perhaps  to  visit  one 
of  their  burial  grounds  in  the  vicinity,  or  perhaps 
considering  this  the  head  of  canoe  navigation.  The 
knoll  was  barren  enough  when  the  poet-professor 
17 


194  TAGHCONIC. 

bnilt  upon  it,  but  his  liberal  planting  has  covered  it 
with  rich  turf  and  an  abundance  of-  trees  and  shrub- 
bery. The  place  is  however  chiefly  notable  as  having 
once  been  the  home  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  and 
the  spot  where  he  performed  work,  the  fame  of 
whose  results  is  now  sure  to  be  as  lasting  as  it  ii» 
universal. 

Some  of  these  results  are  closely  associated  with 
the  name  of  Berkshire.  Among  those  locally  most 
highly  prized  is  Dr.  Holmes's  poem  at  the  dedication 
of  the  Pittsfield  Cemetery:  equally  charming  in  its 
way  is  "The  New  Eden,"  which  was  read  before 
the  Berkshire  Horticultural  Society  at  Stockbridge, 
in  the  September  following,  the  excessively  dry 
summer  of  1854,  when 

"  We  saw  tlie  August  sun  descend 
Day  after  day  with  blood-red  stain, 
And  the  blue  mountains  dimly  blend 
With  smoke-wreaths  on  the  burning  plain. 

**  Beneath  the  hot  Sirocco's  wings 
We  sat  and  told  the  withering  hours, 
Till  Heaven  unsealed  its  azure  springs. 
And  bade  them  leap  in  flashing  showers." 

In  a  still  finer  vein  is  "  The  Plough-boy,"  which 
was  written  for  the  anniversary  of  the  Berkshire 
Agricultural  Society  in  October,  1849.  Dr.  Holmes 
was  chairman  of  the  committee  upon  the  ploughing 
match;  the  large  old  church  was,  as  usual  on  such 
occasions,  crowded  almost  to  suffocation,  and  when 
his  turn  came,  he  mounted  half-way  up  the  pulpit- 
stairs  and  read  a  report  of  which  I  quote  a  part: 

"  Time  and  experience  have  sanctioned  the  custom  of  putting 


OLIVER    WEXDELL    HOLMES.  195 

only  plain,  practical  men  upon  this  committee.  Were  it  not 
so,  the  most  awkward  blunders  would  be  constantly  occurring. 
The  inhabitants  of  our  cities,  who  visit  the  country  during 
the  fine  season,  would  find  themselves  quite  at  a  loss  if  an 
overstrained  politeness  should  place  them  in  this  position. 
Imagine  a  trader,  or  a  professional  man,  from  the  capital  of 
the  state,  unexpectedly  called  upon  to  act  in  rural  matters. 
Plough-shares  are  to  him  shares  that  pay  no  dividends.  A 
coulter,  he  supposes,  has  something  to  do  with  a  horse.  His 
notions  of  stock  were  obtained  in  Faneuil  Hall  market,  where 
the  cattle  looked  funnily  enough,  to  be  sure,  compared  with 
the  living  originals.  He  knows,  it  is  true,  that  there  is  a 
difference  in  cattle,  and  would  tell  you  that  he  prefers  the 
sirloin  breed.  His  children  are  equally  unenlightened  ;  they 
know  no  more  of  the  poultry -yard  than  what  they  have  learned 
by  having  the  chicken-pox,  and  playing  on  a  Turkey  carpet. 
Their  small  knowledge  of  wool-growing  is  ]am(b)entable. 

The  history  of  one  of  these  summer-visitors  shows  how  im- 
perfect is  his  rural  education.  ^  He  no  sooner  establishes  him- 
self in  the  country  than  he  begins  a  series  of  experiments. 
He  tries  to  drain  a  marsh,  but  only  succeeds  in  draining  his 
own  pockets.  He  ofiers  to  pay  for  carting  off  a  compost  heap  ; 
but  is  informed  that  it. consists  of  corn  and  potatoes  in  an  un- 
finished state.  He  sows  abundantly,  but  reaps  little  or  nothing, 
except  with  the  implement  which  he  uses  in  shaving,  a  pro- 
cess which  is  frequently  performed  for  him  by  other  people, 
though  he  pays  no  barber's  bill.  He  builds  a  wire-fence  and 
paints  it  green,  so  that  nobody  can  see  it.  But  he  forgets  to 
order  a  pair  of  spectacles  apiece  for  his  cows,  who,  taking 
offense  at  something  else,  take  his  fence  in  addition,  and  make 
an  invisible  one  of  it,  sure  enough.  And,  finally,  having 
bought  a  machine  to  chop  fodder,  which  chops  off  a  good  slice 
of  his  dividends,  and  two  or  three  children's  fingers,  he  con- 
cludes that,  instead  of  cutting  feed,  he  will  cut  farming  ;  and 
so  sells  out  to  one  of  those  plain,  practical  farmers,  such  as 
you  have  honored  by  placing  them  on  your  committee,  whose 


196  TAGHCONIC. 

pockets  are  not  so  full  when  ho  starts,  but  have  fewer  holes 
and  not  so  many  fingers  in  them. 

It  must  have  been  one  of  these  practical  men  whose  love  of 
his  pursuits  led  him  to  send  in  to  the  committee  the  following 
lines,  which  it  is  hoped  will  be  accepted  as  a  grateful  tribute  to 
the  noble  art  whose  successful  champions  are  now  to  be  named 
and  rewarded." 

Dr.  Holmes  then  read  the  poem  now  known  to 
fame  as  the  "  The  Plough-man,"  which,  in  his  read- 
ing, all  must  have  recognized  as  grand  poetry.  But 
I  suspect  that  not  one  of  the  applauding  audience  — 
and  probably  not  even  the  author  himself  —  realized 
that  they  were  listening  to  what  would  afterwards 
be  recognized  by  the  world's  great  critics  as  the 
finest  georgic  in  any  living  language,  or  perhaps  in 
any  language  whatever.  I  have  my  doubts  if  many 
understood  to  the  full  even,  the  exquisite  fun  of  the 
**  report." 

Yielding  to  his  own  good  nature  and  the  soft 
persuasions  of  a  committee  of  ladies,  Dr.  Holmes 
once  contributed  a  couple  of  poems  to  a  fancy  fair 
in  Pittsfield.  The  writer  does  not  gather  them  into 
the  fold  of  his  published  collection,  and  I  do  not 
know  that  it  is  quite  fair  to  print  them  here;  but,  of 
course,  they  got  into  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  and 
I  cannot  deprive  you  of  the  pleasure  of  reading  at 
least  one  of  them,  even  if  the  poet  does  consider  it 
a  trifle,  too  light  for  preservation. 

Each  of  the  poems  was  enclosed  in  an  envelope 
bearing  a  motto;  and  the  right  to  a  first  and  second 
choice,  guided  by  these,  was  disposed  of  in  a  raffle, 
to  the  no  small  emolument  of  the  object  of  the  fair. 


EO-aJBING   BEOOK.  19*? 

I  think  that  the  two  pieces  are  now  represented  by 
at  least  a  square  yard  of  the  quaint  ecclesiastical 
heraldry  which  illuminates  the  gorgeous  chancel 
window  of  St.  Stephen's  Church. 

The  motto  of  the  first  envelope  ran  thus: 

"  Faith  is  the  conquering  angel's  crown ; 

Who  hopes  lor  grace  must  ask  it ; 
Look  shrewdly  ere  you  lay  me  down ; 

I'm  Portia's  leaden  casket." 

The  following  verses  were  found  within. 

**  Fair  lady,  whosoe'er  thou  art, 

Turn  this  poor  leaf  with  tenderest  care, 
And  —  hush,  O  hush  thy  beating  heart ; 

The  One  thou  lovest  will  be  there." 

"  Alas  1  not  loved  by  thee  alone. 

Thine  idol  ever  prone  to  range : 
To-day  all  thine,  to-morrow  flown. 

Frail  thing  that  every  hour  may  change. 

**  Yet  when  that  truant  course  is  done, 

If  thy  lost  wanderer  reappear. 
Press  to  thy  heart  the  only  One 

That  nought  can  make  more  truly  dear ! " 
Within  this  paper  was  a  smaller  envelope,  con- 
taining a  dollar   bill,  and  this   explanation   of  the 
poet's  riddle. 

"  Fair  lady,  lift  thine  eyes  and  tell 

If  this  is  not  a  truthful  letter ; 
This  is  the  one  (1)  thou  lovest  well, 

And  nought  (0)  can  make  thee  k)ve  it  better  (10). 

Though  fickle,  do  not  think  it  strange 
That  such  a,  friend  is  worth  possessing : 

For  one  that  gold  can  never  change 

Is  Heaven's  own  dearest  earthly  blessing. 


198  TAGHOONIC. 

You  see  now,  in  part,  why  our  people  claim  a  sort 
of  joint  ownership  with  Cambridge  and  Boston  in 
Dr.  Holmes  and  his  fame.  They  have  moreover  a 
real  affection  for  him,  which  leads  them  even  to  con- 
done his  irreverent  sneer  at  Pittsfield's  Old  Elm,  as 
"  sadly  in  want  of  a  new  wig  of  green  leaves  : "  and 
the  charity  which  covers  a  multitude  of  sins  could 
stretch  its  skirts  no  further  than  that.  He  has  so 
much  human  nature  in  him  that,  in  spite  of  some 
social  and  educational  impediments,  he,  every  little 
while,  gets  right  down  to  the  heart  of  things.  That 
is  the  Berkshire  version  of  the  "  one  touch  of  nature 
that  makes  the  whole  world  kin."  And  that  is  what 
makes  Dr.  Holmes  the  most  popular  of  scholarly 
writers.  Do  you  suppose  the  world  would  tolerate 
so  much  learning  in  any  body  else  ? 

A  very  few  rods  beyond  the  Wendell  Farms,  we 
come  to  Arrow-head,  the  fine  estate  formerly  owned 
by  Herman  Melville.  Mr.  Melville  is  a  grandson  of 
that  Major  Thomas  Melville,  who,  a  few  generations 
ago,  was  known  to  all  Bostonians  as  the  last  genuine 
specimen  of  the  gentleman  of  the  old  school  left  in 
the  city,  the  last  wearer  of  the  costume  of  the  Revo- 
lution, and  the  last  survivor  of  the  Harbor  tea  party. 
His  son,  of  the  same  name  and  rank,  was  commandant 
of  the  military  post  at  Pittsfield  during  the  war  of 
1812,  and,  after  the  war,  president  of  the  Agricultural 
Society,  and  otherwise  a  leader  of  men  in  Berkshire, 
besides  being  a  man  of  rare  culture.  AYith  him,  his 
nephew,  Herman,  was  domiciliated  for  a  time,  while 
in  his  youth,  he,  played  school-master  in  a  wild  dis- 
trict—  under  the  shadow  of  Rock  Mountain,  I  think. 


HERMAN    MELVILLE.  199 

It  was  probably  the  memory  of  this  early  experi- 
ence which  led  Mr.  Melville  in  1850,  in  the  first  flush 
of  his  literary  success,  to  retire  to  Pittsfield,  and  soon 
purchase  a  fine  estate  with  a  spacious  old  house;  ad- 
joining, in  the  rear,  the  farm  of  his  early  residence 
with  his  uncle.  This  quaint  old  mansion,  he  made 
the  home  of  the  most  free-hearted  hospitality;  and 
also  a  house  of  many  stories  —  writing  in  it  Moby 
Dick  and  many  other  romances  of  the  sea,  and  also 
"  The  Piazza  Tales,"  which  took  their  name  from  a 
piazza  built  by  their  author  upon  the  north  end  of 
the  house,  and  commanding  a  bold  and  striking  view 
of  Greylock  and  the  intervening  valley.  "  My 
chimney  and  I, "  a  humorous  and  spicy  essay,  of 
which  the  cumbersome  old  chimney  —  overbearing 
tyi-ant  of  the  home  —  is  the  hero,  was  also  ^\Titten 
here.  And  so,  of  course,  was  "  October  Mountain ," 
a  sketch  of  mingled  philosophy  and  word-painting, 
which  found  its  inspiration  in  the  massy  and  brill- 
ian"  tints  presented  by  a  prominent  and  thickly- 
wooded  j^rojection  of  Washington  Mountain,  as  seen 
from  the  south-eastern  windows  at  Arrow-Head,  on  a 
fine  day  after  the  early  frosts.  Mr.  Melville  was 
almost  a  zealot  in  his  love  of  Berkshire  scenery,  and 
there  was  no  more  ardent  and  indefatigable  excur- 
sionist among  its  hills  and  valleys. 

And  now,  let  us  drive  on  to  the  Roaring  Brook, 
which  —  as  you  may  possibly  recollect  —  we  set  out 
to  visit.  Our  way  lies  through  pleasant  rustic  scenes 
and  the  pretty  agricultural  hamlet  of  New  Lenox, 


200  TAGHCONIC. 

Passing  this,  and  guided  by  the  sound  of  the  brook, 
we  come  to  the  mouth  of  the  Tory's  Glen,  through 
which  its  waters  leap,  tumbling  down. 

From  the  broad  summit  of  Washington  Mountain, 
the  brook  comes  dashing  down  the  deep  ravine, 
Bmiling  in  the  rare  sunshine,  glooming  in  the  fre- 
quent shade,  brawling  with  the  impeding  boulders, 
toying  in  amber  pools  with  the  mossy  banks;  but 
for  the  most  part  rushing  impatiently  from  fall  to 
fall,  for  five  restless  miles,  until,  just  without  the 
glen,  it  loses  itself  in  the  indolent  curves  of  the 
Housatonic,  which  here  puts  on  its  gentlest  mood. 

It  must  be  a  sweet  relief  to  the  water  —  vexed 
and  wearied  by  its  rough  passage  among  the  sharp- 
angled  flint  rocks,  and  by  its  arduous  labors  in  turn- 
ing mill  wheels  —  thus  to  repose  at  length  in  the 
flower-bordered  bed  of  the  river,  and  wander  about 
the  meadows,  in  what  leisurely  and  graceful  curves 
it  will. 

Just  below  the  entrance  to  the  Tory's  Glen,  at  a 
point  in  the  road  where  it  winds  around  the  base  of 
Melville's  grand  October  Mountain,  the  curves  dis- 
play themselves  in  a  breadth  of  beauty  which  they 
rarely  exhibit  north  of  Stockbridge,  and  help  make 
up  a  much  admired  view.  It  is  the  beginning  of 
that  system  of  beauty  which  distinguishes  the  Stock- 
bridge  valley,  and  affords  a  kindly  relief  to  the  eye, 
if  it  wearies  of  mountains,  lakes  and  waterfalls. 

One  warm  October  day,  many  years  ago,  a  three 
miles  walk  in  pleasant  company,  brought  me  to  the 
smiling   and  fertile  valley,   just  without  the  glen. 


BOARING    BROOK.  201 

and  following  directions  given  with  kindly  zeal,  we 
soon  entered  it  mentally  contrasting  the  courtesies 
of  rustic  life  in  New  Lenox,  with  the  urbanities  of 
Broadway,  not  to  any  flattering  extent  in  the  interest 
of  the  city. 

You  can  see  the  black  opening  in  the  mountain 
side  which  indicates  the  location  of  the  glen  from 
many  points  in  the  village  of  Pittsfield,  and  if  you 
ask  the  people  what  it  is  they  will  perhaps  tell  you, 
if  they  are  of  the  fanciful  sort :  "  Oh,  that  is  the 
Jaws  of  Darkness;  "  and  you  will  reply,  "  Oh  yes,  I 
see  it  is  !  "  And,  although  you  would  not  be  quite 
correct,  the  contrast  between  the  cheerful  light  of 
the  hamlet  and  the  wild,  sombre  solitude  of  the 
mountain  gorge  is  strikingly  impressive.  From  the 
shadeless  field,  you  enter  upon  overarched  paths  — 
among  mossy  trees,  along  precipitous  rocks,  under 
the  shadow  of  overhanging  mountains.  The  heart 
feels  the  change  instantly,  and  conforms  itself  in- 
stinctively to  it. 

Here  we  find  again  those  adamantine  blocks  of 
flint-rock  which  characterize  and  rudely  adorn  this 
whole  mountain  range.  Sometimes  they  lie  con- 
fusedly upon  the  mountain's  steep  slope;  then,  again, 
they  impede  the  rushing  course  of  the  brook.  In 
the  bed  of  the  stream,  the  ever-rolling  current,  in  the 
course  of  ages,  has  polished  the  surface  and  rounded 
the  edges  of  even  these  obdurate  masses.  It  is 
startling  to  think  by  how  many  years  of  constant  at- 
trition the  soft  flowing  wave  accomplished  its  purpose. 
How  many  centuries  ago  did  the  savage  stoop  to 


202  TAGHCONIC. 

drink  at  this  mountain  stream,  and  think  of  nothing 
but  the  cooling  draught  —  least  of  all  that  the 
smooth,  gliding  fluid  was  bearing  away  a  portion  of 
the  solid  rock  whereon  he  stood,  to  form  a  soil  for 
a  conquering  race  ! 

These  rocks  form  the  bed  of  the  brooks;  and  are 
piled  up  along  its  banks  in  mad  confusion,  with 
crevices  and  dens  between  and  beneath  them,  which 
iu  former  days  sheltered  a  tenement-house  popula- 
tion of  wild  beasts.  In  one  cave  which  lies  under 
the  road.  Revolutionary  tradition  affirms  that  an 
outlawed  Tory,  one  Gideon  Smith  of  Stockbridge, 
once  found  refuge  for  weeks.  It  is  a  dreary  habita- 
tion —  not  in  the  ornamented  style  of  grotto  at  all  — 
a  couple  of  small  rude  chambers  built  of  huge  over- 
lapping flint-rocks,  without  a  pendent  stalactite  or 
sparkling  encrustation,  nor  even  a  grotesquely 
shapen  fracture,  to  relieve  their  barren  walls.  Not 
a  desirable  residence,  in  any  respect;  and,  since  the 
war  has  been  ended  for  a  hundred  years,  and  it  can  do 
the  country  no  harm  —  and,  especially,  as  he  is  dead 
and  it  can  do  him  no  good  —  I  sincerely  pity  that 
hunted  Tory,  driven  out  to  make  his  home  among  wild 
beasts.  Although,  I  dare  say,  he  came  out,  as  often 
as  he  dared,  to  sun  himself,  as  the  t)adgers  do,  in  the 
openings  of  the  wood,  if  he  could  find  any  in  that 
shady  retreat. 

I  do  not  know  what  offense  had  made  him  espe- 
cially obnoxious  to  the  committees  of  vigilance,  to 
which  the  safety  of  the  young  republic  was  en- 
trusted; but  there   is  a  touching  anecdote  of  him, 


Tory's  glen.  203 

which,  if  it  was  known,  ought  to  have  softened  even 
tne  asperities  of  war  times.  It  is  to  the  effect  that, 
when  concealed  in  some  hiding-place  at  home,  he 
made  his  wife  cause  all  his  children  to  pass  daily 
before  the  crevice  which  supplied  him  with  light  and 
air;  so  that  he  might  see  their  innocent  faces  and 
be  comforted  with  the  knowledge  of  their  health  and 
safety.     ISTot  a  bad  man  at  heart,  that  ! 

Smith  seems  to  have  been  often  a  "  hunted  "  man. 
In  May,  1776,  he  harbored  a  certain  Captain  McKay, 
a  British  prisoner  of  war,  who  had  escaped  from  Hart- 
ford, by  the  aid  of  John  Graves,  a  Pittsfield  Tory. 
Smith's  treasonable  hospitality  becoming  known  to  the 
committees,  the  hue  and  cry  was  raised  against  him; 
and  a  party,  of  which  Linus  Parker,  a  famous  Pittsfield 
sharp-shooter,  was  one,  repaired  to  his  house.  His 
family  reported  him  not  at  home,  but  the  seekers, 
confident  that  he  was  in  the  barn,  summoned  him  to 
surrender.  He  appeared  at  the  half -open  door,  peered 
curiously  around,  and,  after  some  parley,  gave  him- 
self up.  Smith  and  Parker  were  nevertheless  per- 
sonally upon  friendly  terms;  and  after  the  war,  the 
former  being,  with  his  wife,  on  a  visit  to  Parker's 
house.  Smith  reverted  to  the  incident  described,  and 
said  that  when  he  opened  the  barn-door,  being  an 
extraordinary  runner,  he  felt  certain  of  making  good 
his  escape;  but,  seeing  Parker  with  his  famous  rifle 
in  hand,  he  Tvas  afraid  to  make  the  attempt. 

"  And  now,  Parker,"  he  added,  "  I  want  to  know 
if  you  really  would  have  shot  me  -?  " 

"  As  quick  as  I  ever  shot  a  deer  !  "  was  the  reply. 


204  TAGHCONIC. 

"  Then  it  would  have  been  all  over  with  me,"  ex- 
claimed his  friend,  feeling  that  he  spoke  in  truthful 
earnest,  and  trembling  at  the  memory  of  the  danger 
which  he  had  escaped. 

Such  are  the  amenities  of  civil  war.  There  were  a 
good  many  Tories  in  Berkshire  county,  as  in  every 
other;  made  so  doubtless,  as  in  all  civil  conflicts  men 
range  themselves,  both  on  the  better  and  the  worse 
side,  some  from  base  and  selfish,  some  from  pure  and 
noble,  but  most  from  mixed,  motives.  The  Tories 
of  Berkshire  —  it  might  be  courteous  to  call  them 
"  loyalists,"  but  it  would  hardly  be  distinctive,  since 
loyalty  to  the  crown  meant  treason  to  the  people  — 
the  Tories  of  Berkshire  were  mostly  of  the  wealthier, 
the  magisterial,  and  the  more  refined,  classes;  and  of 
those  in  other  grades  of  society  who  were  bound  to 
them  by  one  tie  or  another.  Not  that  all,  or  even  a 
majority,  of  these  classes  failed  under  the  test  which 
tried  men's  soula:  but,  as  ever,  wealth  and  ofiicial 
position  proved  powerful  persuaders  against  revolu- 
tion: and,  early  in  the  war  at  least,  the  leading  Tories 
evidently  believed  in  the  prophecies  which  they  ut- 
tered so  unctuously  that,  to  Whig  ears,  they  sounded 
unpleasantly  like  threats:  to  wit,  that  the  king's 
generals  would  come  down  upon  the  rebellious  colony 
from  Canada,  with  his  resistless  army  and  his  savage 
allies;  and  that  Berkshire  would  be  the  first  county 
to  feel  his  vengeance,  as  it  had  been  the  first  to  pro- 
voke it  by  suppressing  his  courts.  It  was  a  prudent 
error  which  made  most  of  the  Tories;  they  knew  not 
what  this  means:  "  he  that  seeketh  his  life,  shall  lose 


toey's  glen.  206 

it " —  lacked  the  virtue  which  risks  all  in  conflict  for 
the  right;  and  had  neither  the  daring  wisdom  nor  the 
wise  courage  which  plucks  the  flower,  safety,  from  the 
thistle,  danger.  Before  the  war  was  over,  most  of 
them  were  —  often  by  rather  heroic  remedies  —  cured 
of  their  perversity  —  at  least  as  to  its  external  mani- 
festation. I  fear  the  cure  was  not  always  radical; 
but  it  sometimes  was,  as  in  one  instance  which  I  am 
going  to  cite  for  you. 

No  doubt,  however,  many  were  religiously  sincere 
in  their  loyalty:  and  all  were  able  to  make  a  very 
plausible,  even  if  hollow,  defence  from  Holy  Writ. 

When  a  man  has  made  up  his  mind  to  do  a  mean, 
vicious  or  cruel  thing  in  his  own  interest,  a  text  of 
scripture,  which  seems  to  commend  or  justify  it,  is 
very  soothing.  I  think  some  of  us  can  recollect 
when  the  garbled  text  "  servants  obey  your  masters," 
and  St.  Paul's  injunction  to  a  fugitive  slave  — 
Onesimus  by  name  —  salved  the  conscience  of  almost 
an  entire  nation,  sorely  lacerated  by  all  the  rest  of 
the  New  Testament,  to  say  nothing  of  the  Deca- 
logue, the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  the  great 
book  of  nature.  The  Tories  could  make  out  a  much 
better  case  than  that;  as  you  see  by  glancing  at  the 
head  of  this  article.  Those  of  them  who  were,  or 
had  been,  magistrates  or  officers  in  the  militia  had 
moreover  taken  the  most  iron-clad  of  oaths,  not  only 
to  bear  faith  and  true  allegiance  to  King  George, 
but  to  the  best  of  their  power,  to  defend  him 
against  all  traitorous  conspiracies,  and  to  make   all 

such  known  to  him.     "  All  these  thinsjs,"  said  the 

18        • 


206  TAGHOONIC. 

subscribers  to  this  oath,  "  I  do  plainly  and  sincerely 
acknowledge  and  swear  according  to  the  express 
words  by  me  spoken,  and  according  to  the  plain 
conunon-sense  and  understanding  of  the  same  words, 
without  any  equivocation  or  mental  reservation 
whatever:  "  and,  however  the  majority  of  good  men 
might  find  that  in  the  conduct  of  "  the  man  George," 
which  released  them  from  the  obligations  of  that 
oath,  and  discharged  them  from  all  allegiance  to 
him,  I  hope  that  you  will  not  bestow  unmitigated 
reprobation  upon  those  whose  tender  conscience,  and 
the  loyalty  to  "  His  Sacred  Majesty,"  sedulously  in- 
stilled by  education  into  their  heart  of  hearts,  re- 
fused to  be  so  relieved. 

I  am-speaking  of  moral  condemnation  only:  how- 
ever tenderly  we  may  appreciate  the  sentiment  of 
natural,  but  mistaken,  loyalty  which  governed  the 
conscientious  adherent  to  the  royal  cause,  the  com- 
mittees of  safety  and  vigilance  could  take  little  ac- 
count of  it.  Stern  necessity,  and  duty  to  a  holier 
cause,  imperatively  demanded  that  it  should  be  re- 
pressed with  a  strong  hand.  And  it  was  done; 
harshly  perhaps  and  unwisely  at  times;  but  effectu- 
ally, and  not  with  half  the  vindictiveness  and  cruelty 
which  would  surely  have  been  visited  upon  the 
committee-men  had  the  Revolution  failed. 

Pardon  me  for  this  prolixity;  but  I  am  heart-sick 
of  the  overstrained  magnanimity,  falsely  so  called, 
which  concentrates  all  its  charities  and  praises  for 
the  defeated  champions  of  the  wrong,  and  reserves 
all  its  censures  and  denunciations  for  the  triumph- 


CONVERTING  A  TORY.  207 

ant  defenders  of  the  right.  If  I  recall  some  of 
the  traits  which  relieve  somewhat  the  odium  justly 
due  to  even  conscientious  support  of  tyranny  and 
antagonism  to  freedom,  or  something  of  the  imper- 
fections which  marred  the  record  of  the  patriots, 
let  me  not  be  construed  as  denying  that,  to  the 
memory  of  the  rudest  sincere  Whig,  honor  and  glory 
are  due  which  that  of  the  most  refined  and  con- 
scientious Tory  must  never  share. 

And  now  let  me  to  my  stories,  the  first  of  which 
I  heard  from  that  best,  and  most  abundantly  sup- 
plied, of  all  Berkshire  story  tellers.  Governor  George 
N.  Briggs;  who,  by  the  by,  I  am  sure  would  have 
sanctioned  the  sentiments  I  have  just  expressed. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  Revolution  there  lived  in 
Lenox  a  staunch  old  Tory,  who  openly  professed  his 
allegiance  to  King  George,  and  his  hostility  to  the 
rebel  cause;  but,  as  he  confined  his  opposition  to 
words,  and  was  greatly  respected  and  beloved  by 
his  fellow  citizens,  for  his  many  excellent  qualities 
as  a  friend  and  neighbor,  he. was  allowed  for  a  long 
while  to  enjoy  his  opinions  unmolested.  But  the 
contest  between  England  and  the  colonies  waxed 
every  day  more  bitter,  and  the  Committee  of  Safety 
began  to  be  troubled  with  doubts  if  it  were  con- 
sistent with  their  duty  to  permit  one  who  so  loudly 
vaunted  his  toryism  to  live  among  them,  and  en- 
courage others  to  commit  outrages  of  which  he 
would  not  be  personally  guilty. 

The  matter  was  often  a  subject  of  deliberation, 
but  the  committee  were  reluctant  to  act.     At  length, 


208  TAGHCONIC. 

however,  in  some  dark  and  trying  hour  —  perhaps 
in  the  bitterness  of  defeat,  perhaps  after  hearing  of 
the  horrors  of  Wyoming  —  they  resolved  to  move. 
Or,  perhaps,  as  happened  in  some  emergencies,  their 
zeal  was  quickened  by  orders  from  head-quarters. 
At  any  rate,  paying  a  visit  to  the  Tory,  they  in- 
formed him,  they  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
his  example  was  too  pernicious  to  the  cause  of 
liberty  to  be  any  longer  permitted.  They  regretted 
the  circumstance,  but  their  duty  was  imperative;  in 
short,  he  must  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
colonies  —  or  swing. 

The  oath  was  peremptorily  and  unhesitatingly  re- 
fused; and  the  next  step  was  an  extemporaneous 
gallows,  erected  in  the  public  street,  beneath  which 
t£e  recusant  was  placed,  and  the  rope  tightened 
around  his  throat,  but  immediately  loosened  and  the 
oath  again  proffered,  and  again  declined. 

All  arguments  and  threats  proving  abortive,  the 
contemptuous  loyalist  was  again  drawn  up,  and 
left  to  hang  until  he  became  purple  in  the  face  — 
care  being  taken  to  lower  him  and  apply  restoratives, 
before  life  was  extinct.  Consciousness  being  once 
more  restored,  the  oath  was  again  tendered,  and  he 
was  entreated  to  yield  to  the  necessity  of  the  case: 
but  his  stubborn  spirit  was  not ' yet  broken;  here- 
fused  to  renounce  his  allegiance  to  the  Crown. 

Things  had  now  come  to  an  awkward  pass;  and 
the  committee,  who  possibly  were  by  this  time  sorry 
they  had  taken  the  matter  in  hand,  retired  to  the 
tavern  for  consultation.     The  New-England   com 


CONVEETING  A   TOBY.  209 

mittee-man  could  no  more  deliberate  without  his 
mug  of  flip  than  the  New  Amsterdam  burgher  with- 
out his  pipe  of  tobacco.  But  whatever  counsels  of 
mercy  there  may  have  been  under  that  genial  in- 
fluence (of  which  the  prisoner  was  not  denied  his 
consoling  cup)  it  was  flnally  resolved  that,  having 
put  their  hands  to  the  plough,  it  would  never  do  to 
turn  back.  Regard  for  dignity  and  the  authority  of 
the  committee  forbade'  it.  In  short  the  good  of  the 
cause  required  that  the  prisoner  should  take  the  oath, 
or  suffer  death  for  his  contumacy. 

The  loyalist  received  their  decision  with  unflinch- 
ing determination  not  to  yield  a  hair's  breadth  in 
what  he  believed  to  be  the  right.  The  committee 
were  equally  resolved,  and  he  was  again  drawn  up  — 
perhaps  with  some  angry  violence.  And  at  once  it 
seemed  that  the  work  of  death  had  been  too  effectu- 
ally done. 

It  may  be  that  the  committee  had  not  designed  to 
carry  their  measures  to  so  extreme  a  length.  Pos- 
sibly they  doubted  if  the  authority  given  them  to 
**  handle  the  Tories  "  was  sufficient  to  warrant  them 
in  it,  for,  although  the  people  of  Berkshire,  from 
1774  to  1781,  would  admit  no  courts  of  law  among 
them  —  submitting  only  to  their  own  committees  — 
there  was  a  tacit  exception  of  capital  cases,  which 
were  tried  before  the  Supreme  Court  at  Springfield. 
But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  feeling  or  intention 
of  the  committee  in  their  anger,  the  sight  they  now  wit- 
nessed might  well  bring  back  their  old  affection  for 
a  tried  friend  and  kind  neighbor.    They  hastened  to 


210  TAGHCOJSriC. 

cut  down  the  body,  and  use  every  effort  to  undo 
their  fatal  work. 

There  seemed  at  first  little  hope  of  reanimating 
the  senseless  clay;  but  at  length  the  limbs  slightly 
relaxed  their  rigidity,  the  eyes  moved,  and  the  livid 
hue  began  to  disappear  from  the  cheek.  Conscious- 
ness slowly  and  painfully  returned;  the  victim  sat 
upright  —  and  the  question  was  again  asked:  "Will 
you  swear  ?  "  "  Yes,"  faintly  responded  the  half -dead 
convert  to  patriotism. 

A  few  moments  afterwards,  as  he  was  sitting  be- 
fore the  tavern  fire  and  a  glass  of  steaming  punch  — 
furnished  by  the  order,  if  not  at  the  expense,  of  the 
committee  —  warming  himself  after  his  dangerous 
exposure  to  the  chills  of  the  shadow  of  death,  he  was 
heard  to  mutter  thoughtfully  to  himself  —  "  Well ! 
this  is  a  hard  way  to  make  Whigs  —  but  Wll  do  it  I " 

And,  accordingly,  from  that  day  to  the  close  of  the 
war,  he  was  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  unwavering 
of  the  patriots. 

Another  story  illustrates  still  more  remarkably  the 
same  trait  of  unflinching  integrity.  It  was  told  to 
me  by  the  late  Hon.  Henrj^  Hubbard,  who  was^well 
versed  in  Berkshire  traditions;  but  I  remember  to 
have  read  it  in  my  childhood,  and,  although  I  cannot' 
recall  the  name  of  the  book  in  which  I  found  it,  it  is 
likely  that  I  have  used  some  of  the  phraseology 
which  Avas  impressed  upon  my  youthful  memory. 

It  seems  that,  at  some  time  during  the  Revolution, 
one  Nathan  Jackson  of  Tyringham  —  a  romantic  and 
beautiful  farming  town  of  Southern  Berkshire  —  was 


A  Tory's  integrity.  211 

accused  of  the  crime  of  high  treason  against  the 
United  Colonies,  or  States.  The  trial  was  to  be  at 
Springfield,  but  the  court  did  not  sit  for  some  weeks — 
during  which  interval  Jackson  was  confined  in  the 
Berkshire  county  gaol,  at  Great  Barrington,  which 
was  in  so  dilapidated  a  condition  that  he  might 
easily  have  escaped  at  any  time,  had  he  not  scorned 
an  act  which  might  indicate  cowardice,  or  reluctance 
to  suffer  for  his  principles.  Unwilling,  however,  to 
waste  his  time  in  idleness,  he  applied  to  the  sheriff 
for  permission  to  go  out  daily  to  work,  promising  to 
return  faithfully  to  the  prison  every  night.  So  well 
was  his  character  for  integrity  established,  that,  al- 
though he  was  committed  on  a  capital  charge,  and 
did  not  deny  the  facts  alleged  against  him,  the 
sheriff  did  not  hesitate  to  comply  with  his  request. 
And  so  well  was  that  confidence  deserved,  that  the 
prisoner  never  failed  to  return  to  his  quarters  punctu- 
ally every  night  to  be  locked  up. 

What  follows  is  a  still  stronger  proof  of  the  re- 
liance placed  upon  his  word.  The  court  was  to  be 
held  at  Springfield,  and  the  journey  to  it  was  then 
a  weary  one,  over  rough  forest-roads.  Jackson  was 
the  only  prisoner  to  be  carried  on,  and  the  sheriff 
complained  bitterly  of  the  trouble  to  which  he  was 
subjected,  particularly  at  this  busy  season  of  the 
year.  The  Tory  told  him  that  it  was  quite  unne- 
cessary for  him  to  go  —  he  could  go  just  as  well  by 
himself;  and  again  he  was  trusted,  and  set  out  alone 
and  on  foot,  to  go  fifty  miles  through  the  woods  to 
surrender  himself  to  be   tried  for  his   life,   upon  a 


212  TAGHCONIC. 

charge  where  he  could  not  hope  for  an  acquittal,  and 
by  a  tribunal  whose  right  to  judge  him  he  could 
conscientiously  deny.  Surely,  if  ever  a  man  had  an 
excuse  to  palliate  a  violation  of  confidence,  it  was 
he;  the  idea,  however,  seems  never  to  have  occurred 
to  him. 

Luckily  for  him,  on  his  way  he  was  overtaken  by 
the  Hon.  Mr.  Edwards,  then  a  member  of  the  Execu- 
tive Council,  to  attend  a  session  of  which  body  h© 
was  then  on  his  way  to  Boston.  This  gentleman 
entered  into  conversation  with  Jackson,  and,  with- 
out disclosing  his  own  name  or  official  position, 
learned  the  nature  of  his  companion's  journey,  and 
something  of  his  history.  Pondering  upon  what  he 
had  heard,  Mr.  Edwards  pursued  his  way  to  Boston; 
and  Jackson,  trudging  on,  soon  reached  Springfield, 
and  surrendered  himself,  was  tried;  did  not  deny 
the  facts  alleged  against  him,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  was  found  guilty  and  condemned  to  death. 

In  due  course  the  petitions  for  pardon  of  persons 
under  sentence  of  death,  were  considered  by  the 
Honorable  Council  which  then  exercised  the  su- 
preme executive  authority  in  Massachusetts.  After 
all  had  been  read  Mr.  Edwards  asked  if  none  had 
been  received  in  favor  of  Nathan  Jackson  of  Tyring- 
ham.  The  reply  was  that  there  was  none;  and  a 
member  of  the  council,  who  had  been  present  at  the 
trial,  remarked  that  the  case  was  one  of  such  un- 
doubted and  aggravated  guilt,  and  the  attachment 
of  the  condemned  man  to  the  King's  cause  was  so 
inveterate,  that  there  could  be  no  reason  for  granting 


213 

a  pardon  in  this  case,  unless  it  was  extended  in 
every  other. 

Mr.  Edwards,  in  reply,  related  his  adventure  with 
Jackson  on  the  road,  and  also  his  story,  which  he 
had  taken  pains  to  have  substantiated  by  the  sheriff 
of  Berkshire.  A  murmur  of  admiration  went  round 
the  council  board;  it  was  unanimously  agreed  that 
such  a  man  ought  not  to  die  upon  the  gallows,  and, 
after  some  brief  discussion,  an  unconditional  pardon 
was  made  out  and  dispatchM  to  Springfield. 

The  stories  suggested  by  the  Tory's  Glen  have 
led  us  far  away  from  it;  and  we  will  return  only  for 
the  purpose  of  passing  again  through  the  pleasant 
village  of  New  Lenox  and  its  sunny  valley;  and  to 
answer  a  question  asked  me  by  a  companion  with 
whom  I  once  rode  through  it:  "Has  so  pretty  a 
place  no  story  ?  " 

To  be  sure  it  has;  but  of  that  kind  which  is  best 
told  in  verse. 

Sunnyvale. 

One  sunny  summer  afternoon, 
The  gladdest  in  all  joyous  June, 
Happiest  man  beneath  heaven's  dome, 
A  farmer  brought  his  young  wife  home  ; 
And,  as  they  reached  the  mountain's  brow. 
And  saw  his  cottage  smile  below, 
He  bade  his  bonnie  bride  mark  well 
How  gaily  there  the  sunshine  fell. 

June  came  again  —  a  babe  was  born. 

It  came  once  more  —  the  child  was  gone : 

Yet,  though  the  farmer's  face  grew  sad. 


214  TAGHCONIC. 

A  smile  of  new-found  peace,  it  had. 
He  strove  the  mother's  grief  to  calm, 
And  said  the  June  days  brought  a  balm ; 
For  something  more  than  sunshine  fell 
From  where  their  child  had  gone  to  dwell. 

June  came  again  —  the  farmer's  wife 
Was  passing  from  our  mortal  life ; 
They  laid  her  in.  our  si.  nniest  glade 
Before  its  frailest  flowers  could  fade. 
That  year  the  farmer  did  not  mark 
If  earth  or  sky  were  bright  or  dark, 
Yet  still  the  careless  sunshine  fell 
Gaily,  as  if  all  things  were  well, 

June  cometh  now.     From  scenes  the  dead 
Had  left  too  lone,  the  farmer  fled ; 
And  strangers,  from  his  lonely  hearth, 
Dispel  the  gloom  with  household  mirth, 
While  not  a  tone  in  any  voice 
Says  some  have  wept,  where  they  rejoice; 
And  still  the  blithesome  sunlight  falls 
As  gaily  round  those  cottage  walls. 


XYH. 

BASH-BISH  AND  THE  DOME. 

**  For  here  these  pathless  mountains  free 
Gave  shelter  to  my  love  and  me, 
And  every  rock  and  every  stone 
Bare  witness  that  he  was  my  own." —  GampbeU. 


Doubtless  the  wildest  and  most  awe-inspiriag 
gorge  among  the  Berkshire  Hills  is  the  deep  and 
shaggy  recess  in  the  western  side  of  Mount  Wash' 
ington,  into  which  the  famous  cascade,  Bash-Bish 
Falls,  comes  dashing  in  a  striking  series  of  bold 
leaps  and  plunges.  Speaking  of  the  passage  down- 
ward, along  the  side  of  the  little  cataract,  a  writer 
familiar  with  the  Alps,  but  a  little  inclined  to  start- 
ling statements,  says  ;  "  the  descent  over  the  rocks, 
along  the  awful  rent  made  in  the  mountain,  was 
wild  as  an  Alpine  gorge,  and  even  more  perilous." 

Mount  Washington  is  the  huge  mountain  pile  — 
a  portion  of  the  Taconic  Range,  which  fills  the 
south-western  corner  of  Berkshire.  In  grandeur  it 
is  rivalled  by  Greylock  alone  among  our  hills;  the 
inhabited  portion  having  an  elevation  of  from  fifteen 
hundred  to  two  thousand  feet  abo^ve  the  level  of  the 
surrounding  valleys,  while  the    summit  rises  to  an 


216  TAGHCONIC, 

altitude  five  or  six  hundred  feet  greater.  Its  grand- 
eur, however,  comes  from  other  peculiarities  as  well 
as  from  its  height.  It  has  also  long  been  famed  for 
scenes  of  picturesque  beauty;  and  has  of  late  gained 
new  renown  and  interest  as  the  locality  of  Sky 
Farm;  the  romantic  home  of  the  charming  child- 
poets,  Elaine  and  Dora  Goodale. 

K  you  chance  to  be  in  the  vicinity  of  Great  Bar- 
ington,  or  if  you  desire,  and  have  leisure  for,  a  pro- 
longed drive,  your  better  way  to  Bash-Bish  is  through 
that  town  and  Egremont,  past  Bryant's  Green  River 
and  over  Mount  Washington.  That  is  certainly  the 
old  fashioned  poetic  route;  but  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  how  the  falls  looked,  one  day,  to  a  field-meet- 
ing of  certain  scientific  associations  of  Troy,  Albany 
and  Pittsfield. 

Bash-Bish  lies  at  an  equal  distance  from  Albany 
and  Pittsfield,  and  an  hour's  ride  on  the  Boston  and 
Albany  railroad  brought  the  excursionists  to  Chat- 
ham, midway  between  the  two  —  while  another 
hour  on  the  Harlem  road  carried  the  united  party  to 
the  pleasant  village  of  Copake,  renowned  chiefly  for 
its  iron  works. 

The  location  of  the  village  is  unique:  with  an  out- 
look over  the  smiling  fields  of  New  York,  on  the 
west,  while  the  frowning  mountains  of  Massachusetts 
almost  over-hang  it  on  the  east. 

The  falls  are  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
village,  and  not  many  rods  east  of  the  state  boundary 
line.  The  road  to  them  is  delightful.  Indeed  the 
first  glimpses  of  it  were  so  enticing  that  a  majority 


BASH-BISH.  217 

of  our  party  preferred  to  walk  over  it,  although  our 
hosts  —  the  Troy  and  Albany  Associations  —  had 
provided  liberally  for  riding,  and  the  kindly  people 
who  welcomed  us,  gave  warning  that  the  ladies,  at 
least,  should  reserve  all  their  strength  for  the  falls. 

After  lingering  awhile  in  the  village,  we  moved 
on,  to  the  great  stone  stack  of  the  iron  blast-furnace: 
the  most  picturesque  of  manufacturies,  and  the  only 
one  which  adds  to,  rather  than  mars,  the  attractive- 
ness of  a  region  like  this. 

A  little  further,  and  we  came  to  the  handsome  and 
finely  located  Swiss  cottage  of  Mr.  Alfred  Douglas, 
of  New  York,  the  proprietor  of  Bash-Bish  and  its 
romantic  surroundings;  where,  by  his  hospitable  in- 
vitation, we  wandered  at  will  through  the  spacious 
grounds  and  deliciously-filled  conservatories.  Even 
after  leaving  this  charming  resting  place,  most  of  us 
did  not  heed  the  hurrying  summons  we  began  to  hear 
in  the  impatient  roar  of  the  cascade;  but  dallied 
listlessly  in  the  park-like  groves,  by  the  shady  way- 
side, or  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  whose  dashing, 
flashing,  gleaming  rocks  and  amber  pools  reminded 
us  of  our  own  Roaring  Brook. 

Still  the  day  was  not  very  far  advanced  when  we 
came  where  the  gorge,  widening  a  little,  throws  up 
its  barriers  into  bare  cliffs  and  shaggy,  precipitous, 
or  pillar-like,  eminences.  Through  the  top  of  the 
central  cliff,  the  stream  has  worn  down  its  way, 
leaving  its  walls  on  either  side  like  huge  horns.  Be- 
tween these  in  no  very  great  volume  —  but  snowy, 
silvery,  summer  coud,  foam-like  —  its  waters  come 
19 


218  TAGHCONIC. 

down  111  a  succession  of  bold  leaps,  divided  midway 
by  a  rocky  shelf  into  "  The  Twin  Falls."  A  column 
worthy,  almost,  of  the  Alps  or  the  Yosemite.  One 
peculiarity  of  the  basin  at  the  foot  of  the  falls,  is  the 
great  variety  of  views  which  it  affords  of  the  cascade 
and  the  rocks  which  mingle  grandly  or  grotesquely 
with  it.  And,  wandering  from  point  to  point  in 
search  of  these  —  now  standing  on  the  rudest  of 
rustic  bridges,  and  now  on  slippery  rocks;  here  on 
bare  and  gravelly  beaches,  and  there  under  green 
branches  —  scores  of  laughing  groups  helped  to  fill 
up  and  enliven  the  landscape  for  each  other.  This 
for  half  an  hour,  or  more;  then  ambition  seized  them. 
"  By  that  sin  fell  the  angels  " —  Shakespeare's  angels; 
and  the  danger  seemed 'imminent  that  it  would  have 
a  similar  result  for  ours.  But  the  first  effect  was 
quite  the  reverse:  it  carried  them  right  up  — almost 
straight  up  —  the  steepest  of  all  possible  log-and- 
rock-encumbered  paths,  to  the  Eagle's  Nest,  Prospect 
Rock,  and  all  manner  of  preposterous  places.  And 
grosser  mortals,  whether  laden  with  scientific  lore  or 
otherwise,  went  along  per-force. 

It  was  impossible  in  the  brief  time  of  our  visit  to 
make  a  thorough  survey  of  the  falls,  and  I  there- 
fore condense  the  detailed  account  of  President 
Hitchcock,  who  devoted  three  visits  to  it: 

From  a  spot  upon  Mount  Washinsrton  whose  beauty  the 
President  glowingly  euloofizes,  one  descends,  two  thousand 
feet,  to  find  himself  by  a  noisy  stream,  about  a  rod  wide, 
which  for  a  short  distance,  tumbles  rapidly  down  between 
perpendicular  cliifs  of  talcose  slate,  a  liuudred  feet  high. 
Soon,  striking  a  huge  barrier  of  this  rock,  the  brook  turns,  at 


BASH-BISH.  219 

right  angles,  to  the  left,  and  for  fifty  or  sixty  rods,  rushes 
down  a  declivity  of  eighty  degrees.  Here  the  water  has  per- 
formed its  greatest  wonders.  Sinking  its  bed  for  unknown 
ages,  and  at  the  same  time  beating  with  its  waters  on  the 
edges  of  the  slate,  it  has  worn  a  dome-shaped  cavity  to  the 
depth  of  one  hundred  and  ninety-four  feet.  At  the  bottom  of 
this  cavity,  one  is  at  the  foot  of  a  vast  wall  of  rock  [the  base 
of  "  The  Eagle's  nest,"]  which  encloses  him  on  the  east, 
south  and  west ;  and  as  it  rises,  curves  outward.  So  that, 
looking  upward,  he  sees  it,  at  the  height  of  nearly  two  hun- 
dred feet,  projecting  full  twenty-five  feet  from  its  base.  From 
the  uppermost  fall,  the  stream  leaps  in  several  smaller  cascades 
perhaps  sixty  feet  in  the  aggregate,  half  hidden  by  huge 
boulders  and  over-hanging  trees.  At  length  we  arrive  at  the 
principal  fall.  The  water  divided  in  twain  by  a  huge  boulder 
poised  upon  its  brink,  falls  over  a  nearly  straight  and  per- 
pendicular precipice,  about  sixty  feet,  into  a  deep  basin.  Anj 
single  view,  as  this  detailed  description  shows,  can  take  in 
but  a  small  portion  of  the  scenery  of  Bash-Bish  Gorge. 
President  Hitchcock  estimates  the  perpendicular  height  from 
the  top  of  the  highest  precipice  to  the  bottom  of  the  lowest 
fall  at  three  hundred  and  twenty  feet. 

Among  the  striking  prospects  offered  by  these 
stupendous  heights,  there  was  a  very  clear  one  that 
some  unfortunates  would  glance  off  the  paths, 
slippery  with  the  needles  of  evergreen  foliage,  and, 
going  sheer  down  that  fearful  distance,  get  undis- 
tinguishably  mashed  upon  the  bare  rock  beneath: 
which,  for  the  moment,  would  have  been  disagree- 
able, however  much  of  pleasing  interest  it  might 
have  added  to  the  scene  for  future  visitors.  But 
the  day  passed  with  no  more  thrilling  incident  than 
a  sudden  plunge  from  an  insecure  plank  into  the  cold 


220  TAGHCONIC. 

stream.  Never  was  so  adventurous  climbing  with 
so  little  of  startling  adventure. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  to  a  close,  we  gathered  for 
the  favorite  landscape  of  the  gorge:  that  from  Sun- 
set Cliff,  which  rises  a  few  rods  below  the  fall. 
Here  the  view  is  down  the  gorge,  westward.  For  a 
mile,  there  is  a  wooded  glen  with  the  stream  thread- 
ing its  silver  way  through  it,  while  at  its  termination 
two  abrupt  hills  —  Cedar  and  Elk  Mountains  — rise 
on  either  side,  like  Herculean  pillars,  to  the  height 
of  more  than  a  thousand  feet.  Near  the  end  of  the 
glen  we  see  the  fitly  placed  cottage  of  Mr.  Douglas, 
with  the  American  flag  floating  in  grace  and  beauty 
by  its  side.  But  this  bold  and  pleasing  picture  is 
only  the  foreground  to  the  grand  view  of  the  Cats- 
kills,  which  are  seen  to  loom  up  in  the  distance 
lofty,  majestic,  dim  and  cloud-like.  In  perfectly 
clear  days  their  outlines  are  sharply  cut  on  the  blue 
sky  or  sunset  clouds.  One  may  doubt  which  of  the 
two  aspects  is  the  most  to  be  enjoyed.  We  were  en- 
raptured with  that  which  was  vouchsafed  us. 

The  explorations  of  the  day  over,  carriages  were 
more  in  request  than  they  had  been  in  the  morning, 
although  an  enthusiastic  minority  preferred  to  stroll 
back  as  they  came.  Then  we  dined  luxuriously  in 
the  rude  but  comfortable  freight  depot:  the  Albany 
and  Troy  Associations  still  being  our  hosts;  and  Mr. 
H.  S.  Goodale,  of  Sky  Farm,  adding  to  the  fare  two 
fat  turkeys,  one  of  them  including  in  its  dressing  a 
witty  poem  of   welcome,  and  the  other  a  mineral- 


BASH-BISH.  221 

ogical  tribute  in  the  shape  of  a  superb  specimen  of 
kyanite. 

Finally  we  gathered  in  the  tasteful  little  church, 
to  ascertain  what  anybody  had  done  for  science 
during  the  day.  I  had  not  observed  that  any  soul 
had  cared  for  anything  except,  with  might  and 
main,  to  enjoy  the  scenery,  the  scrambles,  the  ram- 
bles, the  climbing  and  all  the  rest  of  the  woodland 
jollity.  Somebody  has  said  that  notes  to  a  fine  poem 
are  like  an  anatomical  lecture  upon  a  savory  joint; 
and  I  greatly  feared  that  some  such  comparison 
would  fit  a  scientific  report  upon  Bash-Bish.  But 
those  field-meeting  savans,  with  their  eyes  trained 
to  special  observation,  are  at  home  everywhere 
with  their  minute  philosophy  ;  and  everywhere  find 
sources  of  rare  enjoyment  which,  however  they 
may  have  before  been  "  caviare  to  the  multitude," 
they  contrive  to  make  the  multitude  enjoy  with 
them. 

In  some  departments,  Bash-Bish  had  proved  a  rich 
field.  Professor  Peck,  the  State  Botanist  of  New 
York,  and  a  specialist  in  fungi,  had  detected  in  the 
gorge  five  species  which  were  new  to  him,  as  well 
as  some  rare  and  beautiful  varieties  of  the  fringed 
gentian.  Mr.  Homes,*  the  State  Librarian,  had  made 
a  study  of  the  peculiar  and  valuable  hematite  ores. 
Others  contributed  their  share  of  scientific  dis- 
cussion :  so  that  the  day  was  found  to  have  been  not 
altogether  squandered  in  pleasure. 

The  notes  to  the  poetry  of  the  occasion  were 
furnished,  in   anything  but  an  anatomical  style,  by 


222  TAGHCONIC. 

learned  and  quaint  Professor  Tatlock  of  Pittsfield. 
"They  might  be  epitomized,  said  a  writer  in  an 
Albany  newspaper,  by  the  line  of  Horace: 
NuUus  argento  color  abdito  m  torris  : 

or,  in  other  words,  what  is  all  the  beauty  of 
nature  that  we  have  been  admiring,  without  men 
and  women — and  especially  the  Albany  Institute 
and  their  friends  —  to  admire  it  ?  " 

There  seemed  nobody  to  say  anything  for  the 
really  very  interesting  local  history  of  Mount  Wash- 
ington and  its  vicinity.  I  might  indeed,  myself, 
have  told  the  little  story  which  I  am  now  going  to 
tell  you;  but  there  were  reasons  why  I  should  avoid 
doing  so. 

The  Swiss  Lovers. 

You  may  have  read  —  or,  at  any  rate,  whether  you 
have  read  it  or  not,  it  is  true  —  that,  at  a  very  early 
date,  there  was  a  Swiss  colony  of  iron-makers  upon 
Mount  Washington.  Miss  Sedgwick  asserts  that 
they  gave  the  name  of  Bash-Bish  to  the  cascade  — 
that  being  the  patois  of  their  canton  for  a  small  water- 
fall. But  I  have  my  doubts  as  to  that:  first,  because 
two  or  three  Swiss  gentlemen  of  whom  I  made  inquiry 
were  not  aware  of  anything  of  the  kind;  and, 
secondly,  because  Dr.  O'Callaghan,  the  New  York 
historian,  once  pointed  me  to  an  old  vocabulary  of 
the  language  of  some  western  Indian  tribes — in 
Illinois,  I  think  —  in  which  Bash-a-Bish  is  given  as 
signifying  a  water-fall.  Still  Miss  Sedgwick  may 
be  correct,  as  she  had  visited  in  Switzerland,  and  was 


THE   SWISS   LOVEES.  223 

the  intimate  friend  of  the  historian,  Sismondi,  and 
his  family.  A  resident  of  one  canton  in  Switzerland 
is  not  necessarily  familiar  with  the  patois  of  another, 
and  makers  of  Indian  vocabularies  are  a  long  way 
from  infallible,  as  I  grieve  to  know. 

But,  however  it  may  have  been  with  regard  to 
Bash-Bish,  Miss  Sedgwick  is  certainly  good  authority 
for  the  assertion  that  the  Swiss  colony  gave  the  name 
of  Mount  Rhighi  to  the  locality  where  they  settled, 
in  honor  of  the  famous  mountain  they  had  left  be- 
hind. She  was  a  descendant  of  the  most  prominent 
of  the  early  settlers  of  southern  Berkshire,  and  was 
likely  to  be  well  informed  in  regard  to  its  history. 

One  more  preliminary.  The  brown  hematites, 
which  abound  in  Berkshire,  from  Mount  Washington 
to  Lanesboro'  and  Cheshire  —  as  well  as  here  at  Co- 
pake,  and  in  the  neighboring  Connecticut  town  of 
Salisbury  —  are  among  the  most  precious  of  iron 
ores.  They  are  among  the  most  beautiful,  also,  when, 
as  they  often  do,  they  assume  the  stalactical  form. 
The  black  and  glossy  bubbling  shape  of  many  speci- 
mens gives  the  impression  that  they  were  made  by 
heat;  but  the  real  agency  was  water.  The  hematite 
beds  were  certainly  deposited  from  the  decomposition 
of  primitive,  or  magnetic,  ores  which  once  lay  at 
points  higher  than  they.  Break  one  of  those  glossy 
pieces,  and  you  shall  see  the  stalactical  crystalization 
in  exquisitely  delicate  and  symmetrical  radiation.  It 
is  worth  one's  while,  even  in  the  region  of  rarest 
landscape,  to  stop  curiously  by  the  side  of  a  rusty 
ore-heap.     There  is  nothing  more  admirable  in  the 


224  TAGHOONIC. 

painting  of  the  loveliest  flower,  nothing  more  won- 
derful in  the  upheaval  of  the  mightiest  hills,  than  you 
may  find  in  the  formation  of  those  myriad  crystals, 
about  to  be  cast  by  rude  hands  into  the  seven-fold 
heated  furnace. 

When  the  fields  were  first  cleared  these  ores, 
scattered  in  boulders  over  the  surface,  or  not  deeply 
buried,  were  easily  accessible,  and  iron  works  sprang 
up  everywhere:  not  the  costly  and  massive  structures 
you  now  see,  but  forges,  scarcely  more  in  appearance 
than  expanded  blacksmith  shops;  although  they 
made  iron  that  was  iron.  It  was  this  slightness  of 
structure  and  consequent  change  of  location  as  often 
as  convenience  required,  that  renders  it  impossible 
for  me  to  tell  you  precisely  where  the  forge  and  iron- 
master's dwelling  of  my  story  stood:  but  you  will 
observe  that  it  could  not  have  been  far  from  the 
Bash-Bish  gorge;  perhaps  —  who  knows?  —  on  the 
very  site  of  the  present  Copake  furnace. 

Doubtless  you  think  this  a  queer,  matter-of-fact 
introduction  to  a  love-story.  But  this  will  not  be 
much  of  a  story,  after  all.  You  must  recollect  that 
it  might  have  been  a  field-meeting  report.  And, 
moreover,  the  love-stories  in  this  volume  are,  none 
of  them,  mere  things  of  fancy;  but  the  genuine 
growth  of  this  Berkshire  soil  —  or,  at  the  least, 
fixtures  attached  to  the  reality. 

And  there  is  poetry  in  the  iron-master's  trade, 
Listen  to  but  one  verse  of  a  spirited  song  put  into 
his  mouth  bv  J.  E.  Dow: 


THE    SWISS    LOVERS.  225 

•*  I  delve  in  the  mouutain's  dark  recess. 
And  build  my  fires  in  the  wilderness ; 
The  red  rock  crumbles  beneath  my  blast, 
While  the  tall  trees  tremble  and  stand  aghast. 
At  midnight's  hour  my  furnace  glows, 
And  the  liquid  ore  in  red  streams  flows, 
Till  the  mountain's  heart  is  melted  down. 
And  seared  by  fire  is  its  sylvan  crown." 

Yes,  the  monotony  of  woodland  excursions  by  day 
is  grandly  relieved  by  a  visit  to  an  iron  furnace  by 
night.  And  the  ladies  should  know  that  the  light 
from  the  glowing  metal  is  a  great  intensifier  of  some 
kinds  of  beauty. 

And  now  to  my  story. 

It  must  be  more  than  a  hundred  years  since  there 
lived  near  the  base  of  the  Bernese  Jura,  two  men 
quite  opposite  in  character,  and  —  as  one  of  them, 
at  least,  conceived  ■ —  of  somewhat  different  ranks 
in  life.  Peter  Goubermann  earned  a  moderate  liveli- 
hood in  a  narrow  recess  of  the  mountain,  which, 
besides  the  necessary  room  for  his  forge  and  dwell- 
ing, had  barely  sjTace  for  a  modest  garden,  and 
pasturage  for  a  single  cow.  It  was  a  laborious  and 
humble  life  he  led;  but  he  had  little  ambition  to 
exchange  it  for  one  of  more  wealth  and  ease;  and 
none  at  all  to  rise  in  the  social  scale  above  the 
station  which  liis  fathers  had  occupied  before  him 
for  he  knew  not  how  many  generations.  Content 
that  he  was  secure  in  the  reasonable  comforts  of  his 
home,  and  that  it  was  safe  from  the  terrors  of  the 
avalanche  —  whose  crash  sometimes  roused  him  from 
his  peaceful  slumbers  to  utter  a  thankful  prayer  and 


226  TAGHCONIC. 

fall  quietly  asleep  again  —  almost  his  sole  pride  was 
in  his  forge,  whose  iron  was  unrivalled  in  the  Berne 
market,  and  his  garden  which,  for  its  rods,  had  not 
an  equal  in  the  canton. 

But,  if  he  exulted  in  these,  his  chief  pride  was 
his  pretty  daughter,  Annette;  not  his  pride  alone, 
but  the  pride  of  the  whole  neighborhood;  its  pride 
and  flower,  by  the  consenting  voice  of  all,  except 
an  envious  few.  And  the  envy  must  have  been 
base  indeed,  which  could  sour  those  whom  it  pos- 
sessed against  one  so  unspoiled  by  flattery  as  An- 
nette Goubermann  —  the  gentlest,  kindliest  and 
most  unassuming,  as  well  as  the  most  beautiful,  of 
Bernese  maidens:   as  all  accounts  agree. 

The  moral  antipodes  of  that  Swiss  Yalley-Forge 
was  only  a  mile  and  a  half  distant  from  it,  where 
the  possessions  of  Anton  Yon  Stachel,  the  great 
landed  proprietor  of  that  region  began.  The  rich 
man  had  commenced  life  with  Peter  Goubermann; 
and  as  plain  Anton  Stachel,  the  poorer  of  the  two. 
But  he  was  of  that  class  against  whom  the  prophet 
Isaiah  pronounced  the  curse: 

**  Woe  unto  them  that  join  house  to  house, 
That  lay  field  to  field,  till  there  be  no  place, 
That  they  may  be  placed  alone  in  the  earth," 

And  he  succeeded  so  well  that  it  seemed  as  though 
he  would  finally  leave  no  place  in  his  mountain  mi- 
crocosm for  any  neighbor.  The  superstitious  peo- 
ple said  he  had  discovered  the  philosopher's  stone, 
or  possessed  some  talisman  of  that  sort:  and  so  he 
had;  but  it  was  only  his  own  stony  heart,  that  grew 


THE    SWISS    LOVERS.  227 

harder  and  harder  every  prosperous  year.  There 
are  many  people  who  prosper  under  the  same  poten- 
tial charm;  but  wise  old  Isaiah  knew  what  he  was 
prophecying:  it  is  but  a  bitter  woe  to  them  all 
at  last. 

As  the  rich  man  grew  in  wealth,  he  increased  also 
in  vanity,  and  either  discovered,  or  pretended  to 
discover,  some  far-away  connection  with  a  gentle 
German  family;  whereupon,  assuming  gentility  to 
himself,  he  jerked  an  aristocratic  syllable  into  his 
plebeian  name,  and  became  Anton  Von  Stachel. 
That  is,  he  so  called  himself;  and  all  the  neighbors, 
who  held  him  in  awe*  so  addressed  him,  although  the 
high  and  mighty  council  of  the  canton  contemptu- 
ously persisted  in  enrolling  him  simply  as  "  Stachel, 
yeoman."  And  he  almost  bit  his  tongue  through 
with  vexation  when  he  was  compelled  to  answer  to 
the  humble  patronymic  of  which  his  honest  father 
had  been  proud. 

In  republican  Switzerland,  the  legitimate  dis- 
tinctions of  social  rank  are  not  very  marked;  but,  as 
'  in  republican  America,  the  craving  for  them,  such 
as  they  are,  often  half  crazes  the  unfortunates  upon 
whose  vanity  it  takes  hold;  and  poor,  rich,  Stuchel  — 
now  with,  and  now  without,  the  "  Von  "  —  was  a  very 
sad  case  of  this  mental  malady.  His  social  ambi- 
tion possessed  his  soul  almost  equally  with  his 
avidity  to  add  field  to  field  in^  what  he  called  his 
"domain."  Indeed  the  two  seemed  only  different 
developments  of  the  same  consuming  passion. 

The  gossips  said,  in  whispers  among  themselves  — 


228  TAGHCONIC. 

that  he  had  worried  his  poor  wife  to  death  by  his 
attempts  to  make  her  conform  lo  his  notions  of 
gentility,  assume  superiority  over  the  friends  of  her 
youth,  and  even  half  disown  her  own  family  rela- 
tions. It  is  certain  that,  what  with  his  vanity,  his 
tyranny  and  his  absurdity,  he  led  her  a  most  un- 
happy life,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  conquer  her  aver- 
sion to  falsehood  and  pretence,  and  check  her 
generous  charities.  It  is  certain  moreover  that, 
with  all  due  submission  in  things  reasonable,  she 
made  a  brave,  honest,  and  womanly  resistance  to 
wrong  and  folly,  while  she  could.  And  then  she 
died. 

Whether  the  gossips  were  right  as  to  the  cause  of 
her  death,  I  shall  not  at  this  distance  of  time  pretend 
to  say;  but  in  their  mysterious  female  Vehme- 
Gericht  —  that  shadowy  tribunal  which  j^revails  in 
all  lands,  and  holding  its  secret  sessions  undetected 
in  the  midst  of  crowds,  deals  doom  to  high  and  low, 
as  insidiously  and  irresistibly  as  the  viewless  angel 
of  the  plague  —  in  this  grewsome  conclave,  the 
gossips  continued  to  mutter  judgments.  And  none 
among  them  was  more  positive  than  this;  that 
Madame  Stachel  had  left  a  son  who  had  a  deal  of 
the  mother  in  him  —  or,  as  the  more  emphatic  put 
it,  "  was  all  mother  "  —  and  that  he  would  one  day 
worry  the  life  out  of  the  old  man,  unless  he  fore- 
stalled him  in  that  pleasing  process. 

As  the  boy,  Hermann,  grew  up  to  be  a  fine,  bold, 
generous-hearted  young  man,  it  began  to  look  as 
though    the    doom   pronounced    by   the    feminine 


THE    SWISS    LOVERS.  229 

Vehme-Gericht  against  the  house  of  Stachel,  would 
befall  it.  The  whole  neighborhood  rang  with  stories 
of  the  wrangles  between  the  father  arid  the  son;  al- 
though even  the  old  man's  most  cringing  adherents 
were  compelled  to  admit,  when  pressed  to  the  wall, 
that  Hermann  was  disobedient  only  to  his  most 
odious  commands. 

Of  course  in  due  time,  the  young  man  lost  his 
heart  to  the  Pride  of  the  Valley.  There  was  nothing 
strange  in  that;  all  the  youth  of  the  canton  suffered 
in  the  same  way.  The  peculiarity  of  this  case  was 
that  the  honest  Annette,  rather  than  Hermann  should 
be  robbed,  gave  her  own  in  exchange. 

There  was  a  little  halcyon  period  of  courtship; 
but  when  the  betrothal  was  fully  determined  upon, 
neither  Father  Goubermann  nor  the  young  people, 
were  of  the  mind  to  make  a  clandestine  affair  of  it. 
That  was  not  in  their  truthful  natures.  Perhaps, 
too,  they  did  not  anticipate  the  stubborn  and  violent 
opposition  with  which  the  elder  Stachel  received  the 
announcement  of  his  son's  intentions.  To  be  sure, 
the  iron-master  was  not  rich,  and  not  even  the  prefix 
of,  "  Von,"  could  make  the  name  of  Goubermann 
sound  otherwise  than  peasant-like;  but  then  he  could 
afford  his  daughter  a  decent  dower;  and,  as  for  his 
name,  there  was  not  one  in  all  Switzerland  which 
stood  higher  for  the  integrity  and  sterling  worth  of 
.its  owner.  And,  then,  everybody  knew  that  An. 
nette  might  have  gone  to  the  best  mansion,  or  one 
of  the  best,  in  the  city  of  Berne,-  as  the  bride  of  the 
wealthiest  young  burgher  there;  and  what  was  more, 
20 


230  TAGHCONIC. 

a  right  worthy  fellow.  But  the  Yalley-Forge  match 
would  have  thwarted  one  of  the  fondest  schemes  of 
Stachel's  ambition,  and  he  set  his  face  against  it  as 
flintily  as  though  it  had  been  his  heart. 

I  need  not  tell  in  detail  the  story  of  the  long 
months  of  waiting  and  hoping,  loving  and  hating, 
threatenings  and  defiances.  Suffice  it,  that  Father 
Goubermann  would  not  hear  of  any  marriage  with- 
out the  consent  of  Father  Stachel,  at  least  until 
further  effort  was  made  to  obtain  it;  nor  would  he 
listen  to  Hermann's  plan  of  learning  the  iron-maker's 
art,  in  order  that  he  might  make  himself  inde- 
pendent. 

Six  or  eight  months  had  passed  in  this  manner 
when,  in  an  interval  of  comparative  peace  —  doubt- 
less cunningly  prepared  —  his  father  commissioned 
Hermann  to  attend  to  some  affair  in  connection  with 
his  mother's  family  in  a  remote  section  of  the  con- 
federacy; and,  after  a  tender  parting  with  his  be- 
trothed, he  set  out  on  his  errand ,  without  suspicion 
of  treachery.  But  he  had  scarcely  crossed  the  borders 
of  the  canton  when  the  storm  which  had  long 
been  brewing  burst  upon  the  household  he  loved  so 
well. 

In  his  life-long  course  of  evil-dealing,  Stachel  had 
necessarily  secured  legal  tools,  as  reckless  of  right 
and  mercy  as  himself;  and  now,  having  determined 
to  break  off  his  son's  marriage  at  any  cost,  he  put 
the  business  into  the  hands  of  one  Beza,  a  weasel- 
faced  lawyer  of  Berne.  Even  the  ferret-eyes  of  the 
attorney,  squinny  them  as  he  would,  could  discover 


THE  SWISS    LOVERS.  231 

nothing  in  the  conduct  of  Annette  upon  which  the 
most  harpy-like  slander  could  fasten;  and  that  resort 
was  speedily  given  over.  Nothing  remained  but, 
by  some  device,  to  bring  the  iron  master  into  the 
power  of  the  oppressor;  and  the  unimpeachable  in- 
tegrity of  the  man  forbade  all  hope  of  effecting  this 
by  criminal  accusation,  or  by  enticement  into  any 
rash  act.  Thus  far,  the  righteousness  of  the  threatened 
household  was  a  wall  of  defence  round  about  them. 

But,  almost  mad  with  the  ill  success  of  his  wicked 
schemes  —  which  did  not  even  come  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  those  against  whom  they  were  plotted  — 
Stachel  spurred  on  his  agent  with  new  promise  of 
reward:  and  not  in  vain.  Beza  discovered,  or  forged, 
some  flaw  in  the  Goubermann  title  to  the  iron-works 
and  the  land  attached  to  them;  and  his  employer 
hastened  to  purchase  the  rights  of  the  person  in 
whom  the  property  would  vest,  if  the  flaw  should 
prove  fatal:  and  no  efforts  were  spared  to  make  it 
so.  Before  Hermann  departed  on  his  journey,  the 
new  claim  had  become  so  well  fortified,  although  no 
hint  of  it  had  spread  beyond  the  circle  of  the  con- 
spirators, that  it  seemed  impregnable;  and,  as  soon  as 
the  young  man  was  well  out  of  the  way,  the  masked 
battery  was  uncovered. 

The  revelation  came  upon  Father  Goubermann  like 
a  thunder-bolt  from  a  clear  sky.  That  he  rightfully 
and  legally  owned  the  property  of  which  he  had  so 
long  held  undisputed  possession,  he  had  no  more 
doubt  than  he  had  of  his  own  existence:  and  that 
any  man  should  attempt  to  deprive  him  of  it,  seemed 


232  TAGHCONIC. 

to  his  simple  and  honest  nature,  too  monstrous  for 
belief.  But  there  lay,  staring  him  in  the  face,  a 
formal  —  a  very  legally  formal  —  demand  that  he 
should,  not  only  surrender  it,  but  also  account  for 
long  arrears  of  rents  —  making  an  astounding  sum 
total.  And  the  claimant  was  Anton  Von  Stachel,  who, 
more  than  once,  had  found  means  to  wring  from  an 
unwilling  tribunal,  a  decision  which,  though  legally 
correct,  the  judges  knew  to  be  essentially  unjust:  a 
man  of  many  well  concocted'  appliances  in  resisting 
the  right,  was  Von  Stachel. 

That  night,  it  needed  no  thunder  of  the  avalanche 
to  rouse  Goubermann  from  his  slumbers :  it  found  him, 
for  the  first  time,  restless  on  his  bed  at  midnight. 
No  sleep  came  to  him;  and,  with  the  earliest  dawn,  he 
startedf or  the  city,  to  consult  an  honest  lawyer  —  his 
long-time  friend.  He  found  small  consolation  there. 
Herr  Zwingli  had  no  doubt  that  Stachel's  claim  was 
fabricated  and  fraudulent;  but  to  resist  it  would  in- 
volve a  ruinous  and  doubtful  law-suit.  Nevertheless, 
he  advised  resistance,  as  affording  some  small  hope, 
and  at  any  rate  postponing  for  awhile  the  ejectment 
of  the  Goubermann  family  from  their  home.  The  ruin 
of  resistance  could  be  no  more  complete  than  the 
ruin  of  submission. 

Stachel,  who  had  anticipated  this  legal  consulta- 
.tion  and  its  results,  met  his  victim  as  he  was  return- 
ing home,  laden  with  this  woeful  counsel.  He  had 
waited  for  this  before  seeking  an  interview;  and  now, 
conscious  that  the  hypocrisy  of  any  attempt  to  give 
his  purpose  a  friendly  coloring  would  be  instantly 


THE  SWISS   LOVERS.  233 

detected,  he  came  bluntly  to  his  proposition,  which 
was  substantially  this  :  that  the  Goubermann  family 
should  leave  Switzerland  at  once,  to  remain  for  a 
given  number  of  years;  that  they  should  leave  no 
trace  of  their  course,  nor  ever  in  any  manner,  com- 
municate, so  that  it  could  reach  Switzerland,  the 
place  of  their  retreat.  On  these  conditions,  Stachel 
offered  to  pay  the  iron  master  such  a  sum  as  would 
enable  him,  in  England  or  elsewhere,  to  establish 
himself  in  a  better  position  than  he  left,  and  con- 
senting, moreover,  that  he  might  take  with  him 
such  personal  property  as  would  not  betray  his 
course. 

Goubermann  listened  to  these  cruel  terms  silently, 
and  as  if  in  a  dream;  but  they  were  stamped  upon 
his  memory  as  if  branded  with  a  hot  iron;  and,  no 
less,  the  savage  warning,  uttered  by  his  enemy  as 
they  parted,  of  the  probable  consequences  to  his 
invalid  wife  of  a  rejection  of  this  his  offer. 

There  was  another  sleepless  night  at  Yalley- 
Forge  —  a  night  of  agony  and  prayer,  in  which  the 
daughter  shared,  but  not  the  mother,  who  slept  uncon- 
scious of  the  impending  evil.  In  bitterness  of  soul 
the  father  wrestled  with  his  own  spirit,  and  sought 
counsel  of  his  God.  What  thoughts  possessed  the 
.  young  girl,  conscious  that  her  innocent  but  unhappy 
love  had  brought  about  all  this  misery,  I  leave  you 
to  imagine;  what  rebellious  thoughts  to  be  crushed 
back,  what  youthful  longings  to  be  repressed,  what 
pitying  compassion  for  her  lost  lover;  before  the 
victory  was   won.     I   do    not   say   that    Annette's 


234  TAGHCONIC. 

.dream  of  happiness  and  Hermann  was  altogether 
dissipated  by  her  silent  vow;  but  she  said  quietly  to 
herself,  "  If  it  pleases  the  good  God,  it  will  all  come 
to  pass  yet;  as  for  me  I  will  perform  this  present 
duty  which  He  imposes  upon  me,  without  murmur- 
ing."    And  then  with  a  saintly  smile,  she  said  : 

"  Father,  we  will  go." 

The  father  half  smiled,  half  sighed,  his  blessing 
and  his  assent. 

When  Hermann  returned  from  his  journey,  he 
could  learn  little  more  from  the  sorrowing  people  of 
the  neighborhood  than  the  deserted  cottage  had  al- 
ready told  him.  The  Goubermann  family  had  been 
missed  from  their  home,  one  morning,  a  week  pre- 
vious. They  had  departed  without  farewell  or  expla- 
nation ;  which  was  strange  in  such  honest  and  kindly 
folk,  and  only  to  be  accounted  for  as  the  result  of 
something  connected  with  Stachel's  claim  upon  their 
property,  which  Lawyer  Zwingli  made  public  with  a 
free  expression  of  his  opinions  as  to  its  rascality.  It 
needed  but  an  incautious  word,  dropped  by  his  father 
in  the  heat  of  passion,  to  enable  Hermann  to  divine 
all  the  rest. 

In  looking  for  the  success  of  his  plot  the  father 
had  counted  too  little  upon  the  depth  and  constancy 
of  his  son's  affection  for  the  noble  peasant  girl,  and 
altogether  failed  to  comprehend  the  strength  and 
faithfulness  of  his  whole  nature,  as  well  as  his  quick- 
ness of  perception.  His  own  experience  in  hearts 
led  him  to  believe  confidently  that,  the  object  of 
Hermann's  youthful  fancy,  once  sent  away,  would 


THE  SWISS  LOVEES,  236 

soon  be  forgotten,  and  the  young  man  ready  to  re- 
ceive the  impression  of  new  charms.  It  was  not  the 
only  mistake  he  made.  In  sending  Hermann  on  that 
trumped-up  errand,  he  was  the  unwitting  means  of 
his  obtaining  a  considerable  sum  of  money  in  hand, 
and  a  large  bequest  afterwards,  from  a  maternal 
uncle  who  regarded  him  with  affection  for  both  his 
moral  and  personal  likeness  to  his  mother.  Hermann 
now  found  this  gift  much  to  his  purpose;  and  thus  a 
good  Providence  justified  the  faith  of  the  pious  and 
submissive  maiden,  and  made  the  device  of  the 
wicked  help  to  the  very  end  it  was  intended  to 
prevent. 

It  was  but  a  day  after  his  return  before  Hermann 
disappeared  as  secretly  as  the  iron-master  and  his 
family  had  departed.  But  the  smiling  and  smirking 
gossips  made  no  ado  in  guessing  upon  what  mission 
he  had  gone.  Nobody  feared  that  he  had  plunged 
rashly  into  the  lake,  or  laid  himself  down  in  the 
path  of  a  glacier  —  as  unhappy  people,  now-a-days, 
do  before  a  rail-road  train. 

Probably  Stachel  had  counted  as  much  upon  his 
son's  inability  to  follow  the  exiles,  as  upon  his 
measures  to  conceal  their  route  and  hiding-place ;  but 
the  uncle's  gift  —  which  the  young  man  did  not  deem 
it  needful  to  boast  of  —  was  an  obstacle  to  that  ele- 
ment in  the  plot. 

In  the  region  of  passports  and  police  with  which 
Switzerland  is  surrounded,  there  is  no  great  difficulty 
for  one  disposed  to  use  money  with  moderate  —  not 
to  say  lover-like  —  liberality,  in  tracing  any  body 


236  TAGHUONIC. 

whom  the  government  is  not  disposed  to  hide.  Still 
it  took  the  inexperienced  youth  some  little  time  to 
ascertain  that  the  objects  of  his  pursuit  had  passed 
through  France  on  their  way  to  Great  Britain.  A 
wearisome  and  heart-sickening  search  there  ended, 
by  mere  chance,  in  the  discovery  that — Father 
Goubermann  not  taking  kindly  to  the  ways  of  his 
rude  English  fellow -craftsmen  —  the  family  had 
sailed  for  America.  No  one  could  tell  him  for  what 
port  they  embarked;  but,  by  good  luck,  the  first  ship 
up  was  bound  for  New  York;  and,  impatient  of 
delay,  he  took  passage. 

,At  New  York,  he  was  bewildered  by  the  report 
that  little  iron- works,  like  those  I  have  described,  and 
similar  to  the  well  remembered  forge  in  the  Jura  — 
were  springing  up  everywhere  in  the  wild  woods  of 
Pennsylvania,  New  York,  New  Jersey,  Massachu- 
setts and  other  provinces.  It  was  a  discouraging 
out-look;  and,  with  a  heavy  though  determined 
heart,  he  resumed  his  loving  pilgrimage,  resolved 
that  it  should  end  only  with  success  or  death. 

But  now,  fortune —  which,  in  storm  and  sunshine, 
with  his  consciousness,  or  without  it,  had  still  been 
urging  him  towards  the  haven  where  he  would  be  — 
again  came  visibly  to  his  aid.  As  the  sloop  in  which 
he  had  taken  passage  lay  becalmed  on  the  Hudson, 
a  barge,  heavily  laden  with  iron  from  above,  dropped 
alongside;  and  the  skipper,  questioned  as  to  the 
source  oi"  his  cargo,  shouted:  "  From  Mount  Rhighi ! " 

Hermann  was  startled  almost  into  crying  out :  but 
the  barge  floated  out  of  hailing  distance,  and  he  was 


THE  SWISS    LOVERS.  23"; 

only  able  to  gather  from  the  sloop's  people  that  she 
was  from  Kinderhook,  and  that  Mount  Rhighi  must 
be  somewhere  in  the  same  vicinity. 

Had  he  known  the  remarkable  way  New  York 
people  had  of  appropriating  foreign  names,  he  would 
have  understood  that  the  clew  was  of  the  faintesti 
but,  for  once,  ignorance  helped  him  to  a  correct  con- 
clusion. The  idea  that  this  Swiss  name  would  lead 
him  to  a  colony  of  his  countrymen,  and  finally  to 
those  he  sought,  seized  upon  him  so  forcibly  that  he 
sprang  on  shore  at  Kinderhook  with  a  lighter  step 
and  heart  than  he  had  known  for  months. 

The  village  was  not  large,  and  he  easily  found 
Peter  Van  Schaack,  the  merchant  who  had  shipped 
the  iron;  a  warm-hearted  gentleman  who  listened 
with  sympathy  to  the  broken  English  of  the  young 
Switzer's  story,  and  overwhelmed  him  with  joy  by 
expressing  his  belief  that  a  certain  foreign  family 
who  had,  a  few  months  before,  passed  through 
town  to  Mount  Rhighi,  were  none  other  than  his 
friends.  Mr.  Van  Schaack  pressed  him  to  accept  his 
hospitality  for  a  day  or  two,  until  he  could  have 
conveyance  to  the  iron-works;  but  he  would  not 
have  been  the  true  lover  he  was,  had  he  not  set  out 
at  once,  and  —  since  that  was  necessary  —  on  foot, 
to  make  his  way  through  the  wilderness. 

On  the  second  afternoon  after  this  interview,  An- 
nette Goubermann  was  standing  thoughtfully  upon 
the  brow  of  Sunset  Cliff  in  the  Bash-Bish  gorge. 
Whether  she  had  come  down  the  mountain  to  enjoy 
the  sunny  outlook,  or  had  gone  up  the  glen  to  revive 


238  TAGHCONIC. 

her  Alpine  memories,  will  be  determined  when  some 
field-meeting  or  other  shall  fix  upon  the  locality  of 
the  Goubermann  forge.  But,  there,  on  Sunset 
Cliff,  she  certainly  stood,  looking  dreamily  towards 
the  Catskills,  and  doubtless  meditating  such  things 
as  befit  such  a  maiden  at  such  an  hour  and  on  such 
a  spot;  when  she  suddenly  uttered  a  piercing  cry, 
and  fell,  senseless,  to  the  ground. 

In  an  instant  her  lover  was  by  her  side,  and,  by 
the  aid  of  the  appliances  immemorial  in  such  cases, 
she  was  soon  restored  to  consciousness:  although  it 
was  a  long  while  before  Hermann  was  sufticiently 
sure  of  her  full  recovery  to  suspend  the  use  of  his 
restoratives;  and,  even  after  that,  imminent  danger 
of  a  relapse  seemed  frequently  to  recur.  I  count  it 
selfish  on  their  part  — -unless  Annette's  health  posi- 
tively compelled  it  ;  which,  Hermann  admitted, 
her  complexion  did  not  indicate  —  for  the  pair  to 
keep  Father  Goubermann  and  his  good  wife  so  long 
from  sharing  their  felicity;  but  the  evening  shades 
had  sent  him  in  search  of  his  daughter  before  they 
thought  of  leaving  their  meeting  place.  The  rock 
which  was  their  seat  that  evening,  and  many  a 
happy  hour  thereafter,  is  still  there  on  Sunset  Cliff. 
The  antiquarian  may  still  detect  it  by  the  fact  that 
it  is  just  long  enough  for  two,  and,  unless  time  has 
effaced  it,  by  the  inscription,  Hermann  Stein.  If 
it  has  become  obscure  with  age,  some  "  Old  Morta- 
lity "  should  restore  it. 

I  need  not  paint  for  you  the  joyous  meeting  with 
the  father  and  mother,  nor  the  mutual  explanations 


THE    SWISS  LOVERS.  239 

which  preceded  the  speedy  nuptials  of  Hermann 
and  Annette.  But  I  trust  you  will  be  glad  to  learn 
that  the  whole  family  lived  with  delightful  harmony 
in  their  new  home,  that  Hermann  became  a  very 
skillful  and  renowned  iron-master;  but  took  with 
him  father  and  mother,  as  well  as  his  beautiful  wife 
and  children,  when  he  was  called  back  to  Berne, 
to  enjoy  the  property  which  became  his  by  the 
death  of  his  father;  including  the  old  forge  whose 
fires  were  now  relighted,  not  from  necessity,  but  out 
of  love  for  the  noble  art, 

Stachel  fully  intended  to  bequeath  his  whole  es- 
tate to  some  hospital  or  other  public  institution; 
but,  like  all  prosperous  and  self-important  men,  he 
conceived  that  life  would  be  long  with  him,  and  de- 
layed his  preparation  for  death  until  it  came  upon 
him  fearfully  and  suddenly:  for  he  never  recovered 
from  an  apoplexy  with  which  he  was  struck  upon 
learning  that  the  supreme  court  of  the  canton  had 
adjudged  a  poor  wretch,  whom  he  thought  in  his 
clutches  beyond  rescue,  not  bound  to  Anton  Stachel 
yeoman,  by  an  obligation  given  to  "  Anton  Von 
Stachel,  gentleman."  Rank  and  name  had  real 
meaning  in  those  days.  Lawyer  Zwingli,  who  made 
the  point,  had  come  so  utterly  to  hate  the  old  usurer 
that  he  smiled,  with  grim  satisfaction,  when  he 
heard  the  fatal  result  of  its  success;  but  the  gentle 
Annette  wept  that  her  enemy  was  cut  off  in  the 
midst  of  his  sins. 

Such    is   one   story   of   the   Swiss  occupation  of 


240  TAGHCONIC. 

Mount  Washington  and  the  Alpine  gorge  of  Bash- 
Bish. 

The  Dome  of  the  Taghconics. 

While  we  are  in  this  romantic  mountain  corner  it 
would  be  the  most  unpardonable  lese-majesty,  not  to 
pay  our  homage  to  the  kingly  Dome  of  the  Tagh- 
conics.  And  yet  —  I  confess  it  with  shame  —  never 
having  been  presented  at  that  court  myself,  I  am 
disqualified  for  introducing  you,  and.  must  request 
Mr.  Headley  to  act  as  usher,  with  that  golden  rod, 
his  eloquent  pen: 

"Two  or  three  miles  from  Bash-Bish,  is  tlie  Dome  of 
the  Tagliconics,  a  lofty  mountain  risipg,  precisely  like  a 
dome,  from  the  ridge  of  which  it  forms  a  part.  It  is  in  our 
estimation,  far  superior  to  the  Catskill,  for  you  have  from  a 
single  spot,  a  perfect  panorama  below  you  ;  you  have  only  to 
turn  on  your  heel,  and  east  and  west,  nortli  and  south,  an 
almost  endless  prospect  spreads  away  on  the  vision.  You  are 
the  center  of  a  circle  at  least  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  in 
circumference  ;  and  such  a  circle  !  The  mountains  that  stretch 
along  the  horizon  between  the  Connecticut  and  the  Hoosac 
river  on  the  north-east,  fade  away  as  the  northern  Tagliconics, 
the  Berlin  and  the  Canaan  Mountains  greet  you  in  the  north- 
west ;  and  these  in  turn  are  lorgotten  as  your  eye  falls  on  the 
dark  mass  of  the  Catskill  showing  its  huge  proportions 
against  the  weste  n  horizon. 

"  And  then,  between  is  such  a  wealth  of  scenery.  The  valley 
of  the  Housatonic,  for  miles  and  miles,  spreads  all  its  loveli- 
ness before  you.  There,  too,  are  the  two  settlements  of  Canaan, 
and,  further  up —  a  mere  spot  on  the  landscape  —  Sheffield  ; 
and,  still  farther  up,  Great  Barrington,  hardly  visible  amid  its 
forest  of  old  elms,  while  the  white  cliffs  of  Monument  Moun- 


THE    DOME.  241 

tain  shut  out  old  Stockbridore  from  view,  and  the  distant  spire 
of  Lenox  church  closes  the  long  train  of  villages. 

"  Old  Saddle-Back  of  Williamstown  (the  Qreylock  Range 
in  Adams,  North  Adams  and  Williamstown)  stands  up  to  ita 
full  height  against  the  misty  mountains  that  repose  further 
off  in  the  horizon  —  a  peculiar  feature  of  tlife  landscape.  Egre- 
mont  stands  alone  in  the  valley  of  the  Green  River,  but  its 
sloping  land  and  swelling  hills  present  a  still  lovelier  variety. 
A  low  line  of  mist  is  dimly  seen  stretching  along  the  black 
base  of  the  Catskills,  so  indistinct  that  you  would  scarcely 
observe  it;  and  yet  that  is  the  lordly  Hudson,  heaving  its 
mighty  tide  seaward,  laden  with  the  commerce  of  a  nation. 
A  mere  pencil  mark  in  the  landscape,  here,  it  gives  no  token 
of  the  haste  and  busy  lif(i  on  its  surface.  Close  under  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  on  the  south,  sleep  the  sweet  lakes  of 
Salisbury,  while  other  lakes  dot  the  horizon  in  every  direction. 

"  But  I  cannot  tell  you  of  the  prodigality  of  beauty  which 
meets  the  eye  at  every  turn.  You  seem  to  look  on  the  outer 
wall  of  creation,  and  this  old  dome  seems  to  be  the  spot  on 
which  nature  set  her  great  compasses  when  she  drew  the 
circle  of  the  heavens.  A  more  beautiful  horizon,  I  have  never 
seen  than  sweeps  around  you  from  this  spot.  The  charm  of 
the  view  is  perfect  on  every  side  —  a  panorama,  which  becomes 
a  moving  one,  if  you  will  but  take  the  trouble  to  turn  round." 

21 


XVIII. 
GREYLOCIC 

Qreylock,  cloud-girdled,  from  his  mountain  throne, 

A  voice  of  welcome  sends ; 
And,  from  green  summer  fields,  a  warbling  tone. 
The  Housatonic  blends.—  Frances  Ann  Kemble. 
Spirit  of  Beauty  1  Let  thy  graces  blend 
With  loveliest  nature  all  that  art  can  lend. 

********* 

Come  from  the  steeps  where  look  majestic Jorth 

From  their  twin  thrones,  the  giants  of  the'north 

On  the  huge  shapes  that,  crouching  at  their  knees. 

Stretch  their  broad  shoulders,  rough  with  shaggy  trees. 

Through  the  wide  waste  of  ether,  not  in  vain, 

Their  softened  gaze  shall  reach  our  distant  plain  ; 

There,  while  the  mourner  turns  his  aching  eyes 

On  the  blue  mounds  that  print  the  bluer  skies, 

Nature  shall  whisper  that  the  fading  view 

Of  mightiest  grief  may  wear  a  heavenly  hue. —  0.  W.  Holmes. 


Greylock  is  the  figure-head  of  the  county  of  Berk- 
shire. I  might  say  that  it  is  the  figure-head  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  if  some  Boston 
critic  would  not  cry  out  that  the  hill-folk  are 
trying  to  run  the  ship  of  state  stern  foremost.  But 
the  figure-head  of  the   county,  it  plainly   is;  and  a 


GREYLOCK.  243 

noble  one.  -  What  a  grand  terminal  it  affords  for 
the  mountain  bulwarks  that  so  grandly  sweep  up  to 
it  on  either  side  the  symmetrical  valley.  How 
proudly  it  lifts  itself  against  the  northern  sky;  the 
crested  front  of  the  mighty  landscape  ! 

We  see  it  from  a  myriad  points  of  view,  varying 
its  aspect  with  the  different  stand-points  of  the 
spectator,  and  with  the  perpetual  changes  of  the 
atmosphere;  although  the  general  directness  of  the 
perspective  from  the  south  renders  the  apparent  al- 
terations in  its  contour,  from  change  in  the  line  of 
vision,  to  be  much  less  frequent  than  with  most  of 
our  mountain  shapes. 

The  isolated  mountain  range  between  the  Hoosacs 
and  the  .Taconics,  now  generally  known  as  the 
Greylock  Range,  is  not  so  much  a  chain  as  an  inter- 
twisted cluster  of  mountains  in  the  towns  of  Adams, 
North  Adams  and  Williamstown ;  from  which  a  spur 
strikes  southward  through  New  Ashford,  Cheshire 
and  Lanesboro',  to  Pittsfield.  The  main  cluster  has 
a  length,  from  east  to  west,  of  about  six  miles,  and 
an  average  altitude  of  perhaps  twenty-four  hundred 
feet  above  the  surrounding  valley.  It  consists  of 
six  or  seven  distinct  peaks  and  ridges  rising  above 
a  common  base.  The  highest  peak  —  the  Greylock, 
from  which  the  cluster  takes  its  name  —  is  upon  the 
east,  and  has  an  elevation  of  thirty-five  hundi-ed  feet 
above  the  sea  level,  or  twenty-six  hundred  above  the 
valley  of  the  Hoosac,  at  its  base  on  the  north  and  east. 

The  twin  peak  on  the  west,  less  in  height  than 
Greylock  by  three  or  four  hundred  feet,  commands 


244  TAGHCONIC. 

no  view,  being  covered  by  woods  and  having  its 
nearer  outlook  cut  off  by  surrounding  summits.  Nor 
has  it  any  generally  recognized  name.  But  it  is 
more  conspicuous  from  the  south,  than  its  taller 
brother,  and,  being  of  a  graceful  contour,  will  make 
a  capital  monument,  if  nothing  else;  and,  for  one,  I 
heartily  approve  the  proposition  to  christen  it  "  Sy- 
mond's  Peak  "  in  honor  of  the  grand  old  Williams- 
town  Colonel  who  led  the  "  embattled  farmers  "  of 
Berkshire  in  their  glorious  fight  at  Bennington. 

The  combination  of  these  peaks  in  the  view  from 
the  south,  bears  a  rude,  but  rather  striking,  resem- 
blance to  a  saddle,  which  suggested  to  the  early 
settlers  the  name  of  Saddle-back  Mountain  by  which 
the  cluster  was  long  called;  but  the  comparison  was 
prosaic ;  and,  besides,  a  similar  likeness  had  caused 
the  same  name  to  be  given  to  mountain  ridges  in 
more  than  one  locality.  A  finer  imagination  early 
seized  upon  the  likeness  to  the  grey  locks  of  an  old 
man,  which  the  top  of  the  highest  peak  presents 
when  whitened  by  the  snows  or  frosts  of  the  late 
fall  or  early  spring,  while  the  body  of  the  hill  is 
clothed  in  dark  forests;  and  that  summit  became 
Greylock;  one  of  the  most  poetic  names  which  ever 
added  grace  to  the  loveliness  of  nature. 

The  rudeness  and  lack  of  distinctive  meaning  of 
the  name  "  Saddle-back,"  as  applied  to  the  cluster, 
have  caused  it  to  be  gradually  disused,  and  the  pret- 
tier designation  has  been  extended  to  the  whole  group, 
with  the  addition  of  "group,"  "  range  or  "mountain;" 
so    that  the    name  "  Saddle-back "  is   rarely  heard. 


GREYLOCK.  24(5 

except  from  lips  which  say  "  his'n  "  and  "  hern  "  for 
"his"  and  "hers."  But  you  will  observe  that  there 
is  a  difference  between  "  Greylock  "  and  "  Greylock 
Mountain  "  or  "  The  Greylock  Group." 

You  recollect  Grace  —  the  wild  and  witty  Berk- 
shire girl,  we  met  one  day  down  by  the  borders  of 
Pontoosuc  Lake.  Well,  a  while  ago,  a  geologist 
deeply  enamored  of  her  and  Berkshire  rocks,  after 
showing  her  a  wonderful  piece  of  contorted  strata 
by  the  road-side  near  the  lake,  was  explaining  that 
it  was  really  the  most  marvellous  specimen  he  had 
ever  met:  when  the  saucy  thing  threw  him  com- 
pletely off  his  balance  by  exclaiming,  with  eyes  dis- 
tended in  mock  astonishment:  "  What  a  twdstification! 
Isn't  it  nice,  though  ?  It  looks  just  like  half -worked 
molasses  candy.  Did  you  ever  help  pull  candy, 
professor  ?  Its  awful  jolly  !  " 

"  Awful "  and  "  jolly,"  I  ought  to  explain,  are 
words  which  Grace  reserves  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
extinguishing  over-exquisite  admirers;  but  I  have  no 
doubt  that,  if  I  were  to  set  her  to  explaining  the 
queer  iuterlacings  of  the  Greylock  ridges,  she  would 
dash  me  with  something  like  this:  "What  a  twisti- 
fication  !  Its  just  like  one  of  cook's  dough-nuts 
Arn't  there  some  in  the  lunch  basket  ?  Let's  have 
them  out  !  "  And  I  feel  very  much  inclined  to  dis- 
pose of  the  matter  in  the  same  way.  In  quiet  earnest, 
the  peaks  and  ridges,  the  ravines  and  cascades,  the 
rugged  notches  and  picturesque  nooks  of  this,  as  yet 
only  half -studied,  mountain  group,  are  food  for  a 
season,  rather  than  a  tit-bit  for   a  hasty  excursion. 


246  TAGHCONIC. 

They  seem  moreover  to  belong  to  the  peculiar  do- 
main of  the  Williams  College  people,  and  the  summer 
denizens  of  Greylock  Hall;  to  whom  I  commend 
them,  although  it  sounds  very  like  a  stranger  com- 
mending to  a  man,  the  charms  of  his  own  wife. 
Such  counsel  is  not  always  superfluous. 

The  rest  of  you,  nevertheless,  must  come  with 
me  through  the  more  noted  and  striking  scenes 
whose  beauty  boldly  challenges  us  on  the  peaks,  or 
lies  hid  in  the  recesses,  of  this  loftiest  and  most  pic- 
turesque mountain  of  Massachusetts. 

One  who  has  not  climbed  to  the  top  of  Greylock 
has  taken  no  very  high  degree  as  a  Berkshire  ex- 
cursionist; and,  to  be  initiated  into  the  highest,  he 
must  pass  a  night  there.  If  you  are  an  invalid,  or 
have  any  other  very  valid  reason  for  it,  I  will,  how- 
ever, help  you  to  take  your  degrees  by  proxy: 
although,  for  the  more  convenient  connection  with 
what  is  to  follow,  I  must  give  the  story  of  my  two 
ascents  of  the  great  mountain  in  reversed  order. 

Night  and  Morning  on  Greylock. 

It  was  a  laughing,  sparkling,  companionable,  well- 
assorted  party  that,  passably  well  supplied  with 
brains,  and  thoroughly  well  versed  in  the  matter- 
in-hand,  met  one  evening  in  the  most  deliciously 
comfortable  of  parlors,  to  organize  —  as  the  sum- 
mons of  onr  queenly  chief  put  it — f  or  a  new^crown- 
ing  of  Old  King  Greylock.  There  is  much  good  in 
thesfe  preparatory  meetings.  In  the  first  place  a 
Buccessful   excursion    must  be    organized  by  some- 


NIGHT    AND    MORNING    ON    GEETLOUK.  247 

body.  However  you  may  tumble  into  it  at  hap-bazard, 
somebody  has  planned  and  prepared  for  it.  The 
victories  which  nobody  organizes  are  no  more  to 
be  counted  upon,  in  any  undertaking,  than  the  for- 
tunes that  fall  to  lucky  people  from  forgotten  Calif  or- 
nian  uncles.  And,  least  of  all,  can  you  trust  to  chance 
for  the  successful  issue  of  a  day  and  night  moun- 
tain excursion,  where  a  single  fault  in  the  commisa- 
riat  or  the  quarter-master's  department  may  cause 
infinite  disaster.  To  be  sure,  some,  considerate  or 
generous  persons  generally  provide  all  things  ne- 
cessary; but  it  is  every  way  better  to  do  it  in  merry 
committee  of  the  whole. 

If  there  were  no  other  reward  for  this  equitable 
course,  it  is  enough  that  it  doubles  your  pleasure; 
which  you  take  in  two  installments;  the  first  being 
in  hand,  and  sure:  to  whatever  fate,  foul  weather  or 
other  misfortune  may  bring  the  second.  And,  by 
and  bye,  when  both  come  to  be  alike  far-off  me- 
mories, you  may  doubt  which  was  the  richer,  and 
more  real.  And  then,  again,  in  this  cosy  and  infor- 
mal preliminary  gathering,  you  assimilate  your  party; 
which  —  particularly  if  there  happen  to  be  new 
elements  in  it  —  is  very  desirable.  It  saves  much 
delay  and  awkwardness  on  the  morrow.  Nobody  is 
distrait,  as  strangers  are  apt  to  be,  when  you  meet 
for  the  start;  and  sometimes  very  pleasant  unex- 
pected pairing  results  —  permanent  or  otherwise. 

Our  council  in  preparation  for  Greylock  had  no 
perplexing  subject  of  debate.  A  railway  ride 
to  Adams,  where  carriages  to  the  mountain-top  had 


248  TAGHCONIC. 

been  engaged,  disposed  of  the  matter  of  transporta- 
tion. Apparatus  for  open-air  cooking,  we  always 
had  ready;  and  supplies  of  cold  meats,  boiled  eggs, 
sandwiches,  fruits  and  all  manner  of  pic-nic  fare 
were  reported  in  quantities  that  only  mountainous 
appetites  could  expect  to  do  away  with.  It  only 
remained  to  provide  for  protection  against  the  night 
dews,  and  the  mists  of  the  mountain  top;  and  that 
was  soon  carefully  arranged.  In  view  of  the  pro- 
spective fatigu-es  of  the  morrow,  only  a  very  small 
allowance  of  dancing  was  allowed;  and  then,  to 
help  our  anticipations  and  dreams,  Henry  Thoreau's 
graphic  account  of  his  night  and  morning  on  Grey- 
lock  was  read.  It  is  an  episode  in  his  charming 
"  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimac,"  from  which 
I  shall  presently  quote  a  paragraph;  but  you  should 
read  the  story  in  full,  with  the  characteristic  moral 
and  philosophical  observations  of  the  great  Secular 
Solitary. 

His  conveyance  and  commisariat  were  even  simpler 
than  ours,  and  much  more  self-reliant.  "  I  had 
come  over  the  hills  on  foot,"  he  writes,  "  on  foot 
and  alone  in  serene  summer  days,  plucking  the  rasp- 
berries by  the  wayside,  and  occasionally  buying  a 
loaf  of  bread  at  a  farmer's  house;  with  a  knapsack 
on  my  back  which  held  a  few  traveller's  books  and 
a  change  of  clothing,  and  a  staff  in  my  hand.  *  *  f 
Reaching  the  mountain  top,  I  had  one  fair  view  of 
the  country  before  the  sun  went  down;  but  I  was 
too  thirsty  to  waste  any  light  in  viewing  the  prospect, 
and   set   out   directly   to  find  water.     First,    going 


NIGHT   AND    MORNTING    ON    GREYLOCK.  249 

down  a  well-beaten  path  through  a  scrubby  wood, 
I  came  to  where  the  water  stood  in  the  tracks  of  the 
horses  which  had  carried  travellers  up.  I  lay  down 
flat  and  drank  these  dry,  one  after  another  —  a  pure, 
cold,  spring-like  water;  but  yet  I  could  not  fill  my 
dipper,  although  I  contrived  little  syphons  of  grass- 
stems,  and  ingenious  aqueducts  on  a  small  scale;  it 
was  too  slow  a  process.  Then,  remembering  that 
I  had  passed  a  moist  spot  near  the  top,  I  returned 
to  find  it  again'5  and  here,  with  sharp  stones  and  my 
hands,  in  the  twilight,  I  made  a  well  about  two  feet 
deep,  which  soon  filled  with  pure  water;  and  the 
birds,  too,  came  and  drank  at  it.  So  I  filled  my 
dipper,  and  making  my  way  back  to  the  observatory, 
collected  some  dry  sticks,  and  made  a  fire  on  some 
flat  stones  which  had  been  placed  on  the  floor  for 
that  purpose;  and  so  I  soon  cooked  my  supper  of 
the  rice  I  had  bought  at  North  Adams,  having 
already  whittled  a  wooden  spoon  to  eat  it  with." 
With  Mr.  Thoreau's  resources  one  could  afford  an 
extended  tour. 

Mr.  Thoreau  ascended  the  mountain,  from  North 
Adams  through  "  The  Notch,",  a  savage  cleft  be- 
tween Greylock  peak  and  a  lower  hill  upon  the  east. 
Through  this  rugged  pass,  dashes  a  crystal  brook, 
which  supplies  to  the  village  waterworks,  an  abun- 
dance of  pure  water;  and  also,  with  its  foaming 
cascade  and  other  brookly  beauties,  affords  an  at- 
tractive as  well  as  accessible  resort  for  citizens  and 
strangers.  At  its  southern  end,^  where  the  narrow- 
ing notch  "  slopes  up  to  the  skies,"  it  is  called  "  The 


250  TAGHCONIC. 

Bellows-pipe."  In  our  wild  northern  storms,  the 
fierce  winds  bellow  through  it  in  thousand-fold  con- 
centrated fury. 

Our  ascent,  from  Adams,  was  much  more  prosaic. 
We  sacrificed  a  little  romance,  for  the  sake  of  a 
good  deal  of  ease:  still  we  we  were  often  tempted 
from  our  comfortable  conveyances  into  groves,  glades 
and  recesses  among  the  rocks  by  the  road-side.  There 
was  no  need  of  haste.  Even  after  a  socially  pro- 
longed dinner,  enjoyed  in  full  view  of  a  magnificent, 
but  comparatively  narrow,  landscape,  we  had  ample 
time  to  ascend  the  observatory  and  enjoy  the  stu- 
pendous scenery  which  presented  itself  in  every 
direction. 

We  were  in  rare  good  fortune.  The  atmosphere 
was  exceptionally  pure,  rendering  the  view  as  clear 
and  distinct  as  one  of  such  vast  proportions  ever  can 
be.  Approximately  to  measure  that  vastness  in 
your  mind,  consider  that  the  diameter  —  not  the 
circumference  —  of  the  horizon  revealed  to  you,  is 
some  three  hundred  miles.  Away  in  eastern  Wor- 
cester, you  see  Mount  Wachusett;  the  Grand  Monad- 
nock  in  south-western  New  Hampshire;  the  lofty 
peaks  of  the  northernmost  Taconics  in  Vermont; 
the  Adirondacs  of  New  York  in  the  north-west,  and 
the  Catskills  in  south-west.  In  the  south,  the  far-a- 
way hills  of  Connecticut  me.lt  dimly  into  the  Sound- 
ward  slope.  From  Mount  Tekoa,  Mount  Tom,  and 
Mount  Holyoke  in  the  Connecticut  valley,  successive 
ridges  rise  continually,  to  the  Columbian  Moun- 
tains of  New  York;  pile  after  pile  in  most  admired 


NTIGHT    AND    MORNING    ON    GRETLOCK.  251 

disorder,  for  a  breadth  of  more  than  sixty  miles: 
longitudinally,  some  seventy  miles  southward;  and 
northerly  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 

Mr.  Gladden,  quotes  President  Hitchoock  as  say- 
ing: "I  know  of  noplace  Avhere  the  mind  is  so 
forcibly  impressed  by  the  idea  of  vastness,  or  even 
of  immensity,  as  where  the  eye  ranges  abroad  from 
this  eminence:  "  and  it  is  not  for  us,  in  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  this  majestic  over-view,  to  look  for 
a  rival  to  it  in  Alps  or  Sierra. 

The  nearer  and  gentler,  but  still  bold  and  com- 
manding, view  is  close  upon  the  south,  where  the 
great  Berkshire  valley  lies  spread  out  before  us:  in 
its  centre  the  streets  and  spires  of  Pittsfield,  with 
their  fair  cordon  of  glassy  lakes  glittering  around 
them,  and,  on  every  side,  half-hidden  villages  and 
village  churches  gleaming  white  upon  the  verdant 
back-ground  of  woods  and  fields;  conspicuous  among 
them  the  fine  old  meeting-houses  of  Lenox  and 
Dalton  —  while,  most  distinct  of  all,  almost  under  our 
feet,  and  so  close  to  the  mountain's  base  as  to  seem 
a  very  part  of  it,  lies  the  thriving,  busy  and  hand- 
some town  of  Adams.  A  scene,  take  it  all  in  all,  to 
be  tenderly  yearned  over  by  the  children  of  thai 
glorious  valley,  and  to  be  lovingly  admired  by  the 
merest  chance-comer  to  the  hill-top. 

While  we  lingered  dreamily  over  it,  the  sun  went 
down,  leaving  on  that  transparent  sky,  no  such  cloud- 
shapes  of  fantastic  gorgeousness  as  often  veil  his 
parting;  but,  along  the  whole- western  horizon,  one 
broad,  uniform  band  of  glowing  light  —  softening, 


252  TAGHCONIC. 

from  richest  orange  through  all  golden  tints,  until  it 
melted  from  liquid  amber  into  crystal  chrysoprase, 
and  then  was  lost  in  the  prevailing  azure. 

The  gold  paled  from  the  western  heavens:  and 
then  the  grey  was  absorbed  in  the  blue.  The  evening 
shadesfilled  the  valley;  crept  up  the  mountain  side; 
enveloped  grove  and  tower,  and  the  little  group  who 
silently  awaited  their  coming. 

"  Darkness  upon  the  mountain  and  the  vale  ; 

The  woods,  the  lakes,  the  fields  are  buried  deep 

In  that  still,  solemn,  star- watched  sleep  : 

No  sound,  no  motion,  and  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

A  calm  and  lovely  death  seems  to  embrace 

Earth's  fairest  realms  and  heaven's  unfathomed  space. 

The  forest  slumbers;  leaf  and  branch  £ind  bough, 
High  feathery  crest,  and  lowliest  grassy  blade. 
All  restless,  wandering  wings  are  folded  now, 
That  swept  the  sky,  and  in  the  sunshine  played. 
The  lake's  wild  waves  sleep  in  their  rocky  bowl : 
Unbroken  stillness  streams  from  nature's  soul, 
And  night's  great  star-sown  wings  stretch  o'er  the  whole  I" 

Mrs.  Kemble. 

As  was  fitting,  even  in  the  merriest  party,  we 
yielded  for  awhile  to  the  solemn  promptings  of  the 
hour;  but  it  is  not  fitting,  even  were  it  possible,  that 
they  should  long  curb  the  glee  of  a  mountain  excur- 
sion. The  voice  of  our  chief  reminded  us  that  we 
had  promised  our  friends  at  home  to  signal  our 
presence  on  Greylock  by  a  blaze  which  they  could 
see.  The  appointed  hour  had  come,  and  the  beacon 
was  lighted.  Our  friends  were  kind  enough  to  be- 
lieve they  saw  it  beaming  like  a  star,  or  a  light  in  a 


NIGHT    AND    MORNING    ON    GEEYLOCK.  253 

distant  window.  Perhaps  they  did.  It  certainly- 
cast  a  strange,  wild,  red  glare  upon  the  old  tower  and 
the  overhanging  foliage;  and  invested  the  ladies,  who 
gathered  around  it,  with  a  weird,  gypsy  beauty  that 
was  very  enchanting. 

The  little  grotto  of  light,  we  had  wrought  out  in 
the  great  darkness,  had  hardly  disappeared,  when 
the  white  moon  rose  up  the  eastern  sky,  revealing 
new  realms  of  splendor.  Little  by  little,  the  hills  and 
valleys  emerged  from  the  shadow  ;  reposing  in  the 
pallor,  or  gleaming  in  the  silver  sheen,  ©f  the  white 
radiance.  There  was  no  longer  any  color  in  the 
picture.  It  was  drawn  in  crayon  —  all  light  and 
shade.  Nor  was  there  day-light's  sharpness  of  out- 
line; the  landscape  lay  in  broad  surfaces  and  heavy 
masses,  except  in  the  close  foreground.  There  is 
something  altogether  delusive  in  the  brilliance  of 
moonlight.  ^  It  dazzles,  but  cannot  illuminate.  It 
will  light  you  gaily  to  your  serenade;  but  you  can- 
not read  a  sentence  by  it,  at  its  brightest,  as  you 
can  by  a  very  dim  twilight.  You  need  the  yellow 
rays  of  the  spectrum  for  that;  as  you  will  discover 
by  attempting  to  read  in  a  church  whose  "  dim  re- 
ligious light  "  streams  through  stained  windows,  and 
then  in  one  where  the  garish  light  of  day  is  ren- 
dered still  more  garish,  by  being  strained  through 
ground  glass,  which  eliminates  most  of  the  yellow 
from  it.  You  will  observe  the  same  difference, 
although  in  a  less  degree,  between  the  yellow  flame 
of  a  kerosene  lamp,  and  the  white  blaze  of  a  gas-jet ; 
22 


254  TAGHCONIC. 

the  eye  tiring  much  the  quicker  uuder  the  lattei. 
But  it  was  not  dread  of  spoiling  our  eye-sight 
which  led  our  prudent  chief  to  order  us  to  our 
couches.  Indeed  the  glamour  of  that  illusive  splen- 
dor seemed  magically  projected  on  the  scene  for  our 
immediate  enchantment  and  witchery.  But  the 
white  mists  which  first  traced,  in  delicate  lines  upon 
the  dark  surface,  the  curves  of  the  river  and  the 
lurking  places  of  the  lakes,  had  filled  the  lower 
valley,  until  as  we  looked  down  upon  it,  it  lay  out- 
spread like  a  great  snow-shrouded  plain.  And  now 
tall,  ghostly,  phantom-like  shapes  upreared  them- 
selves on  the  mountain  ,side.  We  knew  that  their 
embrace  was  uncanny,  if  not  deadly,  and  we  fled 
before  the  advancing  specters,  screaming —r  with 
laughter. 

The  floors  of  the  two  stories  of  the  tower  had 
already  been  spread  with  elastic  boughs,  of  balsamy 
odor,  from  the  near  woods:  slinagy  bear  and  buifalo 
robes,  army  blankets  and  rubber  coverings  were  now 
liberally  distributed.  Generous  draughts  of  hot 
coffee  were  dealt  out.  Prayers  were  read.  Then 
stillness  was  enjoined  upon  the  wakeful,and  soon  those 
not  too  much  excited  b)^  the  novelty  of  the  scene 
slumbered  peacefully.  Before  morning  all  enjoyed 
a  healthful  sleep,  undisturbed  except,  once  or  twice, 
by  a  fitful  cloud-rack  w^hich  drifted  through  the  open 
windows  —  just  to  remind  us  how  near  we  were  to 
heaven. 

Before  I  tell  you  of  our  awakening,  I  will  read  you 
what  Mr.  Thoreau  says  of  his :  • 


NIGHT    AND    MORNIXG    ON    GREYLOCK.  255 

'*  I  was  up  early  and  perched  upon  the  top  of  the  tower  to 
see  the  day  break ;  for  some  time  readinpr  the  names  that  had 
been  engraved  there  before  I  could  distinguish  more  distant 
objects.  An  '  untameable  fly  '  buzzed  at  my  elbow  with  the 
same  nonchalance  as  on  a  molasses  hogshead  at  the  end  of 
Long  Wharf.  Lven  here  I  must  attend  to  his  stale  humdrum. 
As  the  light  increased,  I  discovered  around  me  an  oce*an  of 
mist  which  reached  up  by  chance  exactly  to  the  base  of  the 
tower,  and  shut  out  every  vestige  of  the  earth  ;  while  1  was 
left  floating  on  this  fragment  of  the  wreck  of  a  world,  on  my 
carved  plank  in  cloudland :  a  situation  which  it  required 
no  aid  from  the  imagination  to  render  impressive.  As  the 
light  in  the  east  steadily  increased,  it  revealed  to  me  more 
clearly  the  new  world  into  which  I  had  risen  in  the  night : 
the  new  te7'ra  firma  perhaps  of  my  future  life.  There  was 
not  a  crevice  left  through  which  the  trivial  places  we  name 
Massachusetts,  Vermcnt  and  New  York  could  be  seen  ;  while 
I  still  inhaled  the  clear  atmosphere  of  a  July  morning  —  if  it 
were  July  there.  All  around  me  was  spread  for  a  hundred 
miles  on  every  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  an  undulating 
country  of  clouds,  answering  in  the  varied^  swell  of  its  surface 
to  the  terrestrial  world  it  veiled.  It  was  such  a  country  as 
we  might  see  in  dreams,  with  all  the  delights  of  Paradise. 
There  were  immense  snowy  pastures  apparently  smooth-shaven 
and  firm,  and  shady  vales  between  the  vaporous  mountains ; 
and,  far  in  the  horizon,  I  could  see  where  some  luxurious 
misty  timber  jutted  into  the  prairie,  and  trace  the  windings  of 
a  water  course,  some  unimagined  Amazon  or  Orinoko,  by  the 
misty  trees  on  its  brink. 

As  there  was  wanting  the  symbol,  so  there  was  not  the  sub- 
stance, of  impurity  :  no  spot  nor  stain.  It  was  a  favor  for 
which  to  be  forever  silent  to  be  shown  this  vision.  The  earth 
below  had  become  such  a  flitting  thing  of  lights  and  shadows 
as  the  clouds  had  been  before.  It  was  not  merely  veiled  to 
me ;  it  had  passed  away  like  the  phantom  of  a  shadow,  crxio^ 
«vac:,  and  this  new  platform  was  gained.     As  I  had  climbed 


256  TAGHCONIC. 

above  storm  and  cloud,  so  by  successive  day's  journeys  I  miglit 
reach  tlie  region  of  eternal  day  ;  aye, 

*  Heaven  itself  shall  slide, 
And  roll  away  like  melting  stars  that  glide 
Alonff  their  oily  thread.' 

But  when  its  ovn  sun  began  to  rise  on  tins  pure  world,  I 
found  tuyself  a  dweller  in  the  dazzling  halls  of  Aurora — into 
which  poets  have  had  but  a  partial  glance  over  the  eastern 
hills  —  drifting  among  the  saffron-colored  clouds,  and  playing 
with  the  rosy  fingers  of  the  Dawn,  in  the  very  path  of  the 
Sun's  chariot,  and  sprinkled  with  its  dewy  dust,  enjoying  the 
benignant  smile,  and  near  at  hand  the  far-darting  glances,  of 
the  god.  The  inhabitants  of  earth  behold  commonly  but  the 
dark  and  shadowy  under-side  of  heaven's  pavement ;  it  is  only 
"when  at  a  favorable  angle  of  the  horizon,  morning  and  evening, 
that  some  faint  streaks  of  the  rich  lining  of  the  clouds  are 
revealed.  But  my  muse  would  fail  to  convey  an  impression 
of  the  gorgeous  tapestry  by  which  I  was  surrounded ;  such 
as  men  see  faintly  reflected  afar  off  in  the  chambers  of  the 
east.     Here,  as  on  earth,  I  saw  the  gracious  god 

'  Flatter  the  mountain  tops  with  sovereign  eye,  *  ♦  * 
Gilding  pale  streams  with  heavenly  alchemy.' 

Never  here  did  '  Heaven's  Sun '  stain  himself.  But,  alas, 
owing  as  I  think  to  some  unworthiness  in  myself,  my  private 
sun  did  stain  himself,  and 

Anon  permit  the  basest  clouds  to  ride 
With  ugly  wrack  on  his  celestial  face ; 

for  before  the  god  had  reached  his  zenith,  the  heavenly  pave- 
ment rose  and  embraced  my  wavering  virtue,  or  rather  I  sank 
down  again  into  that  '  forlorn  world  '  from  which  the  celestial 
8un  had  hid  his  visage." 

Mr.  Thoreau,  descending  the  mountain,  soon  found 
himself  in  the  region  of  clouds  and  drizzling  rain; 
and  the  inhabitants  affirmed  that  it  had  been  a  rainy 
and  drizzling  day  wholly. 


NIGHT    AND    MORNING    ON    GREYLOOK.  257 

Our  party,  had  a  somewhat  different  experience, 
yet  Avith  a  general  likeness.  A  bugle,  surreptitiously 
carried  to  the  mountain  top,  roused  us  with  pleasant 
surprise  by  a  wild  reveille  as  soon  as  light  began  to 
kindle  beyond  the  Hoosacs.  The  surface  of  the 
mist-sea  w^hich  filled  the  valley,  lay  calm  and  level 
some  tw^o  hundred  feet  below  the  summit  on  which 
we  stood;  everywhere  dazzling- white,  except  upon 
its  extreme  eastern  verge  which  flushed  with  rose- 
red  —  changing  soon  to  gold,  and  then  to  golden 
blaze.  The  sun  came  up  and  added  new  splendor  to 
the  glowing  scene  before  the  morning  breeze  began 
to  disturb  its  serenity. 

From  the  first,  three  or  four  distant  peaks  were 
seen,  like  far-off  islands  in  a  foaming  ocean.  Now 
the  mist  began  to  lift  itself  with  the  breeze,  and  roll 
away  into  the  blue  sky;  while  new  islands,  promon- 
tories, capes,  began  to  appear,  until  the  green  earth 
lay  again  beneath  us,  revealed  in  all  its  summer 
beauty.  So,  to  some  angel,  worshipping  in  awe  and 
wonder,  the  broad  scene  of  creation  may  have  been 
revealed  when  God  said,  "  Let  the  waters,  that  are 
under  the  heavens  be  gathered  into  one  place,  and 
let  the  dry  land  appear  :  and  it  was  so." 

I  made  an  excursion  to  Greylock  prior  to  the  one 
I  have  just  attempted  to  describe;  and  I  recall  it 
now  for  two  specific  pufposes.  After  the  visit  to 
the  natural  bridge  at  North  Adams,  of  which  I  gave 
an  account  some  while  ago,  my  companion  and  my- 
self walked  to  Williamstown,  where  we  passed  the 
night.    In  the  morning  we  walked  to  South  Williams- 


258  TAGHCONIC. 

town,  where,  being  told  that  the  "  Hopper "  would 
be  intolerable  on  a  day  so  intensely  hot,  we  aban- 
doned our  intention  of  exploring  that  torrid  gulf, 
and  went  up  the  mountain.  We  had  no  guide,  nor 
any  but  very  obscure  directions  as  to  the  path  we 
were  to  pursue;  and,  making  our  way  pretty  much 
at  random,  we  found  ourselves  first  upon  Symond's 
Peak.  Rectifying  our  mistake,  we  reached  the 
tower  on  Greylock,  at  about  one  o'clock:  not  at  all 
fatigued  by  our  tramp.  Nor  were  we  unpleasantly 
wearied  when  we  reached  the  hotel  at  New^  Ashford 
in  the  evening,  or  after  our  walk  to  Pittsfield  the 
next  day.  I  make  this  point  to  correct  the  impres- 
sion that  the  ascent  to  Greylock  is  either  difficult  or 
unduly  fatiguing  to  persons  of  ordinary  health  and 
powers  of  endurance. 

I  have  also  taken  you  to  the  top  of  Greylock 
again,  to  tell  you  of  our  descent  from  it  on  that  first 
trip,  and  how  it  brought  us  into 

The  Heart  of  Geeylock. 

It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that 
we  yielded  to  the  stern  fact  that  lack  of  supplies 
and  camp  equipage  would  repress  our  noble  rage  to 
pass  the  night  upon  the  mountain  top;  and  we 
shaped  our  course  homeward,  taking  our  bearings 
solely  with  reference  to  diii'ectness. 

"  Straight  is  the  line  of  duty, 
Curved  is  the  line  of  beauty; 
Follow  the  first  and  thou  shalt  see 
The  other  ever  follow  thee." 


THE    HEART    OF    GREYLOCK.  259 

And  that,  we  found  true.  Our  straight  course 
brought  us  to  the  verge  of  a  precipitous  descent  of 
something  more  than  a  thousand  feet,  but  with 
sufficient  inclination  to  give  root-hold  to  a  mod- 
erately thick  growth  of  trees. 

Down  this  sharp  descent,  we  dropped  rapidly, 
clinging  for  support  to  the  branches  and  under- 
growth, and  deliciously  refreshed  by  frequent 
draughts  of  the  cold  and  limpid  water  which  gushed 
from  a  thousand  springs,  and  sometimes  dripped  its 
coolness  luxuriously  upon  our  heated,  upturned  faces. 

At  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  a  brook  brawled  its 
way  between  banks  which  afforded  a  narrow  grassy 
glade  in  the  midst  of  the  dark  woods.  As  we  stood 
in  this  sunny  opening,  we  gazed  above  and  around 
us  in  utter  amazement  and  delight.  The  chasm  into 
which  we  had  been  chance-led,  was,  in  shape,  an 
inverted  cone,  truncated  at  its  reversed  apex  by  the 
little  plain  intersected  by  the  brook.  The  walls,  at 
least  a  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  all  over  en- 
amelled with  the  richest  forest  green,  appeared  to 
us  as  perfectly  circular  and  their  tops  presented  a 
line  as  level  against  the  sky,  as  though  we  had  looked 
up  from  within  some  unroofed  round  tower  or  cas- 
tle —  of  the  Titans,  for  instance.  Lost  in  astonish- 
ment at  the  strange  beauty  of  the  spot,  and,  still 
more,  that  whisper  of  it  had  never  reached  us,  we 
pursued  our  way  down  the  stream,  to  be  still  more 
amazed  when  the  people  who  lived  near,  told  us  that, 
so  far  as  they  knew,  it  had  neither^name  nor  renown. 
Finding  afterwards,  however,  that  the  persons  of 


260  TAGUCOXIC. 

whom  we  sought  information  were  not  very  intelli- 
gent new-comers,  I  resumed  my  pursuit  of  know- 
ledge, and  finally  learned  from  a  good  old  family  of 
the  neighborhood  —  besides  some  pleasant  legends 
which  I  have  carefully  stored  away  —  that  the  names 
we  sought  were  "  Money  Hole  "  and  "  Money  Brook," 
which  were  given  in  respect  of  a  tradition  that,  in 
Kevolutionary  times,  a  gang  of  counterfeiters  used  to 
haunt  their  obscure  recesses.  I  do  not  know  how 
well  founded  the  tradition  is;  but  it  is  strongly  for- 
tihed  by  the  fact  that,  half  a  century  ago,  the  little 
stream  gained  the  soubriquet  of  "  The  Specter 
Brook,"  because  the  ghosts  of  the  departed  rogues 
were  often  seen  keeping  watch  and  ward  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  glen,  while  mysterious  noises  wei;e 
heard  wiihin.  I  can  well  believe  the  phantom  part 
of  the  story;  for,  to  this  day,  the  banks  of  all  our 
mountain  streams  are  all  alive,  if  that  is  not  a 
bull,  with  sheeted  ghosts. 

In  the  moonlit  mist  restoring 
Vanished  forms  of  long  ago. 

The  roguish  name  assigned  to  what  it  seemed 
should  be  rather  a  classic  than  a  criminal  haunt,  did 
not  altogether  please  me,  and  I  was  glad  to  discover, 
a  year  or  two  later,  that  Professor  Albert  Hopkins  — 
that  gentle,  but  enthusiastic,  spirit  to  whose  fine 
influence  Williamstown  and  Williams  College  owe 
so  much  of  their  esthetic  interest  —  had  christened 
it  "  The  Heart  of  Greylock." 

I  was  told,  too,  at  the  same  time,  that,  had  we,  on 


BAU)  MOUNTAIN.  261 

our  chance  visit,  followed  the  brook  up,  instead  of 
down,  its  course,  we  should  have  soon  come  to  the 
Eremite  or  Hermit  Cascade  —  a  waterfall  at  the 
least  as  picturesque  and  wild  as  Bash-Bish,  and  which 
I  have  since  heard  praised  by  other  admirers  in 
similar  exalted  terms.  As  I  have  not  yet  seen  it,  my 
memories  of  Mount  Washington  are  not  disturbed; 
but,  what  with  a  Specter  Brook  and  a  Hermit  Cas- 
cade, the  Heart  of  Greylock  certainly  offers  a  fine 
field  for  an  old-fashioned  imagination. 

If  you  are  now  ready  to  climb  the  mountain  again, 
I  will  take  you  to  the  summit  whose  shaven  head 
gives  it  the  name  of 

Bald  Mountain, 

and  also  enables  it  to  afford  a  finer  view  of  the 
Williamstown  valley  than  can  be  obtained  from  the 
higher  peaks.  Seven  or  eight  years  ago  a  party 
composed  chiefly,  it  seems,  of  college  professors, 
clergymen  and  other  gravely-gay  characters  —  such 
as  much  affect  Williamstown  for  a  summer  resort  — 
with  a  feminine  element  of  the  same  caste,  dwelt  for 
a  while  in  leafy  tabernacles  in  a  sheltered  nook  of 
this  summit,  and  one  of  the  party  sent  a  spirited 
account  of  their  joys  to  the  ISTew  York  Observer,  of 
all  papers  in  the  world:  dating  from  "Camp  Dew- 
Dew  "  as  if  the  reverend  writer  were  wholly  oblivious 
of  Don  Juan  and  correct  orthography.  However, 
his  spectacles  were  good,  and  we  will  take  a  look 
through  them  from  the  mountain  top. 

"Our  camp  lies  in  tliis  slieltered  spot  upon  Bald  Mountain, 


262  TAGHCONIC. 

SO  near  the  summit  of  Greylock  that  sunset  and  sunrise 
parties  go  out  daily,  and  our  artists  and  botanists  climb  its 
sides  in  search  of  views  and  botanical  treasures  *  *  *  Select 
what  point  you  choose  of  these  commanding  hills,  and  below 
you  lies  the  wide  valley,  the  faint  blue  line  of  the  river  wind- 
ing past  Williamstown,  Blackington,  and  Adams  —  the  whole 
framed  by  the  encircling  sweep  of  the  blue  mountains;  while 
far  away  is  the  white  shaft  of  the  observatory  on  Mount 
Anthony,  ani  farther  in  the  distance  still,  overtopping  all 
nearer  summits,  loom  up  the  dark  hills  of  Vermont.  And  this 
landscape  is  never  twice  the  same :  always  bold  and  varied." 

These  views  are  not  all  to  be  witnessed  from  Bald 
Mountain,  which  is  over-topped  on  the  north  and 
east  by  Prospect  Mountain  and  Greylock.  I  did 
not  bring  you  here,  however,  for  the  sake  of  the 
views;  but  that  you  might  look  down  from  its 
northern  edge  into 

The  Abyss, 

upon  which  the  name  of  "  The  Hopper  "  was  early 
inflicted  by  that  unimaginative  imagination  whose 
horrid  mission  seems  to  have  been  from  the  first  to 
curse  this  picturesque  mountain  group  with  the  most 
common-place  nomenclature.  I  grant  that,  as  you 
look  down  into  the  abyss,  it  has  a  striking  likeness 
in  form  to  the  hopper  of  a  grist  mill;  and  that  this 
comparison  is  the  readiest  mode  of  conveying  to  the 
mind  of  a  stranger  some  idea  of  its  shape;  but  mere 
form  is  not  the  most  essential  element  in  the  de- 
scription of  any  natural  object;  else  were  the  old 
likeness  of  the  moon  to  a  green  cheese  felicitous  and 
poetic.     It  seems  to  me  that  the  one  idea  which  that 


THE  HOPPER.  263 

likeness  of  the  abyss  to  a  hopper  ought  to  have  sug- 
gested was  to  cast  headlong  into  it,  the  wretch  who 
first  conceived  the  thought  of  making  use  of  it  in 
naming  this  grand  work  of  nature,  and  let  him  take 
his  chances  of  being  well  gi'ound  up  on  the  rough 
mill-stones  at  the  bottom. 

You  will  start  back  in  affright  lest  some  such  fate 
may  befall  yourself,  if  you  approach  unwarned  the 
brink  of  the  chasm  on  the  edge  of  Bald  Mountain. 
Unless  nature  has  favored  you  with  firmer  nerves 
than  she  grants  to  most  men,  or  you  have  plied  some 
such  dreadful  trade  as  the  samphire  gatherer's,  it  will 
cost  you  some  effort;  with  much  probability  of  failure, 
to  prepare  yourself  to  observe  the  abyss  from  above 
with  any  calmness,  or  without  absolute  danger  of 
fatal  dizziness.  It  is  thus,  however,  that  you  best 
comprehend  the  terrific  grandeur  of  the  scene. 

Having  obtained  this  apprehension,  it  will  be  as 
well  if  you  pursue  your  study  of  the  place  from  be- 
low. To  do  this,  you  will  enter  it  from  the  Williams- 
town  road,  passing  through  a  narrow  valley  and 
ravine,  penetrated  by  a  rocky  brook,  which,  now  I 
think  of  it,  used  to  furnish  capital  trouting.  Reach- 
ing the  floor  of  the  chasm,  you  will  discover  that  it 
does  not  come  to  a  point,  as  distance  deceived  you 
into,  thinking  when  you  looked  from  above,  but 
affords  a  level,  though  rock-cumbered,  surface. 
Hei'e  you  will  find  yourselves  -surrounded  by  four 
precipitous  mountain  walls  over  a  thousand  feet  in 
height,  or  more  than  twice  as  high  as  the  crags  of 
Monument  Mountain,  although  not,  like  them,  abso- 


264  TAGHCONIC. 

luteiy  perpendicular  and  bare.  On  these  rough  and 
shaggy  sides  you  will  see  here  huge  and  bare  cliffs, 
there  ragged  trees  clinging  to  steep  ascents  and 
scanty  soil,  and  there  patches  of  richer  wood,  but 
still  of  precarious  foothold;  here  the  broad  path  of 
the  land-slide,  and  there,  piled  and  scattered  below, 
its  mighty  ruins.  Vastness  and  desolation  will  be 
every  where  about  you;  and,  if  you  can  rid  yourself 
of  that  disennobling  association  with  a  mill-hopper, 
I  think  you  will  feel  that  this  great  abyss  in  Grey- 
lock  is  both  terrific  and  sublime. 

King  Greylock's  Mountain  Height. 

With  jollity,  jollity,  lio,  to-niglit, 
To  scale  King  Greylock's  mountain  height  1 
While  many  a  wild  recess  profound 
Sends,  rattling  back,  the  echoing  sound. 
As  we  startle  the  sleepy  forest  glades 
With  the  joyous  rout  of  our  madcap  maids: 
F.OT  never  a  merrier  band  than  they 
E'er  climbed  at  eve  this  mountain  way  1 
Ohor. —  Then,  ho,  on  our  rude,  steep  path,  away  1 

With  the  morrow's  light  on  the  topmost  height. 
We  must  hail  the  coming  pomp  of  day  ! 

Oh,  whether  the  height  in  sunshine  lie, 

Or  glamour  moonlight  cheat  the  eye, 

'Tis  a  laughing  light  on  the  mountain  side. 

That  owl-eyed  care  can  never  abide  ; 

And  his  worldly  weight,  that  worldlings  bear,     * 

Is  loosed  at  the  magical  touch  of  our  air ; 

Earth's  spell  is  broke  —  and  the  heart  is  free. 

As  childhood's  in  its  frolic  glee ! 


GREYLOCK.  265 

Chor. —  Then,  ho,  on  our  rude,  steep  path,  away  1 

With  the  morrow's  light  on  the  topmost  height. 
We  must  hail  the  coming  pomp  of  day  I 

Our  beacon  fire  this  night  shall  glow, 

A  gem  on  the  monarch  mountain's  brow, 

Or  far  to  our  dear  home  valley  gleam  — 

A  new  found  love-star's  gentle  beam. 

Then  sweeter  couch  ne'er  wooed  to  rest, 

Than  the  springy  boucfhs  of  the  green  hill's  crest. 

Whose  leaves  our  fragrant  bed  shall  be. 

With  the  starry  night  for  canopy  ! 

(Jhor. —  Then,  ho,  on  our  rude,  steep  path,  away ! 

With  the  morrow's  light  on  the  topmost  height, 
We  must  hail  the  coming  pomp  of  day  1 

33 


XIX. 

WAHCONAH    FALLS    AND    A  TRADITION 
ABOUT  THEM. 

How  throbbed  my  fluttering  pulse  with  hopes  and  fears. 
To  know  the  color  of  my  future  years. —  Rogers. 


A  little  way  off  the  main  road  in  Windsor,  a  plea- 
sant farming  town  on  the  highlands,  some  ten  miles 
from  us,  are  Wahconah  Falls.  I  had  heard  their 
praises  spoken  by  one  who  had  an  affinity  with 
beauty  which  sought  out  its  kindred  in  all  hidden 
nooks;  and  on  a  bracing  Autumn  day  I  sat  out  to 
seek  them. 

There  are  few  drives  through  a  more  agreeable 
region.  The  villages  of  Dalton,  through  which  you 
pass,  form  a  handsome  town  with  a  fine  old  meeting- 
house on  its  ample,  lawn-like  green.  You  are  en- 
ticed to  linger  as  well  by  the  dark  rushing  river, 
where  you  see  the  groaning  locomotive  toiling  up  the 
steep  ascent  above  you.  And  there,  too,  the  quaint- 
looking  paper-mills  by  the  river  side,  go  far  to  make 
up  a  pretty  and  novel  scene.  It  is  said,  that  as 
bright  glances  are  sometimes  thrown  from  the  win- 
dows of  these  oddly  shapen  manufactories  as  from 
any  balcony,  lattice  or  verandah  whatever 

The  paper  manufacture,  a  great  leading  interest  of 


WAHCONAH    FALLS.  267 

Berkshirej  was  here  introduced  into  the  county  in 
1799,  by  Zenas  Crane,  whose  sons  and  grandsons 
still  carry  it  on,  making  among  other  styles  the 
paper  upon  which  the  bonds  and  bank  bills  of  the 
United  States  government  are  printed.  One  ol 
them,  Hon.  Zenas  M.  Crane,  is  the  proprietor  of 
Wahconah  Falls,  of  whose  romantic  beauty  he  is 
one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  admirers.  Leaving  be- 
hind us  the  pretty  villages  of  Dalton,  and  its  prettier 
belles  —  a  production  for  which  it  was  famed  long 
before  it  gained  renown  for  paper-making  —  we 
soon  come  to  The  Falls,  a  romantic  miniature  cataract, 
just  far  enough  from  the  highway  to  be  sheltered 
from  the  too  careless  eye. 

Wahconah  Brook,  one  of  the  larger  of  the  nu- 
merous eastern  branches  of  the  Housatonic,  here 
pours  through  perpendicular  cliffs  of  dark  grey  rock, 
a  considerable  volume  of  water,  which,  in  two  or 
three  leaps,  makes  a  descent  of  seventy  or  eighty 
feet.  The  dark,  precipitous  cliffs  form  a  striking 
and  sombre  vista,  and  the  black  and  glossy  surface 
of  the  water  affords  a  fine  contrast  with  the  silvery 
white  of  the  foam  into  which  it  breaks.  But  the 
peculiar  charm  which  wins  the  place  so  many  and 
so  constant  admirers  is  indefinable. 

One  may  be  sure  of  passing  a  pleasant  hour  at 
such  a  spot.  The  swift,  smooth  gliding  of  water 
always  brings  a  pleasurable  sensation,  and  there  is 
rare  music  in  the  dash  of  a  waterfall  free  from  the 
discordant  clatter  of  machinery..  Alas,  too  rare  in 
manufacturing  Massachusetts !  I  confess  to  a  malicious 


268  TAGHCONIC. 

joy  in  looking  upon  the  blackened  ruins  of  an  old 
mill  which  used  to  stand  here,  but  perished  long 
a<ro  in  some  fierce  conflict  with  the  insulted  elements. 
Heaven  send  thee  no  successor,  thou  grim  and  grin- 
ning skeleton  ! 

It  is  in  such  places  as  this,  that  sensible  people 
cut  up  all  manner  of  boyish  antics.  Never  be  over 
nice  about  dignity  when  in  near  pursuit  of  the 
better  thing,  woodland  or  rural  enjoyment;  leave 
gravity  and  etiquette  at  home,  in  your  wardrobe, 
with  all  other  starched  and  flimsy  articles  of  ap- 
parel, and  all  the  flummery  of  life.  Get  astride  an 
island  rock,  that  midway  divides  the  stream;  where 
the  torrent  shall  throw  its  spray  over  you,  and  the 
current  dash  by  on  either  side  your  slippery  foot- 
hold. Shout !  Rival  the  noisy,  angry  stream  at  its 
own  game.  Observe  now  how  superior  is  organic 
sound  to  any  mere  inarticulate  noise:  your  voice 
lost  in  the  thunder  of  the  cataract,  so  that  you  can- 
not hear  your  own  words,  comes  out  clear  and  dis- 
tinct, to  your  friends  upon  the  shore.  So  the  voice 
of  true  and  prophetic  genius,  lost  now  in  the  mad 
roar  of  the  multitude,  shall  ring  its  message  clearly 
in  the  ear  of  the  listening  future. 

This  cascade  makes  good  its  claim  to  be  called 
beautiful  by  gaining  constantly  upon  your  aft'ec- 
tions.  You  come  again  and  again  to  sit  by  its  ebon 
pools,  and  let  your  eye  glide  with  the  fall  of  its 
glossy  sheet,  and  sparkle  with  the  glittering  frag- 
ments into  which  it  breaks  among  the  rocks.  I  like 
these   minor  cataracts,  which   do   not  oppress   you 


WAHCONAH.  269 

with  their  sublimity,  where  your  soul  Is  not  absorbed 
by  any  awful  grandeur.  They  are  like  those  plesant 
books  where  something  is  left  for  the  imagination 
of  the  reader.  There  is  room  for  the  delights  of  an 
"if:"  if  it  had  been  hung  in  air  like  the  white 
ribbon  of  a  bridal  bonnet;  if  it  had  been  swollen  to 
mighty  bulk,  and  curved  like  a  horse  shoe:  if  it 
had  fallen  from  so  far  that  it  had  lost  its  way  to 
earth,  and  so  flown  back  on  iridescent  wings  to 
heaven.  Why,  one  has  a  whole  cabinet  of  possible 
picturesques  in  that  little  germ. 

There  is  a  tradition  about  these  falls  which  I 
heard,  long  years  ago,  from  a  young  Indian  of  the 
civilized  Stockbridge  tribe,  who  had  come  back 
from  the  western  exile  of  his  people  to  be  educated 
at  an  eastern  college.     I  hope  it  will  please  you. 

Wahconah. 

At  the  close  of  the  great  Pequot  war  in  1637,  you 
will  recollect  that  the  remnant  of  that  gallant  but 
unhappy  nation  were  driven  from  Connecticut,  and 
scattered  abroad,  as  they  plaintively  said,  "  like  the 
autumn  leaves  which  return  not,  though  the  tree 
grow  green  again."  In  this  sad  exodus,  a  majority 
of  the  fugitives  went  to  swell  the  Onuhgungo  and 
other  fierce  tribes  of  Canada  which  afterwards  took 
such  dreadful  vengeance  upon  the  western  border 
settlements  of  New  England.  But  some  bands 
chose  to  pause  by  the  way  in  the  valleys  of  the 
Housatonic  and  the  Hoosac,  where  the  brotherly 
kindness  of  the  Mohegans  and  the  Mohawks  granted 


270  TAGHCONIC. 

them  homes  in  which  game  was  plenty  and  hunters 
were  few. 

One  of  these  small  parties,  under  the  lead  of  a 
young  brave,  called  Miahcomo,  built  their  frail 
village  in  that  part  of  the  valley  now  called  Dalton, 
Here,  for  forty  years,  they  lived  in  peace,  and,  be- 
getting sons  and  daughters,  increased  in  numbers  far 
beyond  the  red  man's  wont.  The  hill-side,  where 
they  buried  their  dead;  the  glen,  whose  thick  woods 
reflected  the  red  glare  of  their  council  fire,  became 
dear  to  them  as  home;  but  above  all,  the  inaccessible 
mountains  were  prized,  as  the  hunted  man  only  can 
prize  the  strength  of  the  hills. 

Almost  forty  years  had  passed  since  the  little  tribe 
fled  from  the  flames  of  Fort  Mystic,  when  the  great 
sachem  of  the  Wampanoags  came  to  them.  A¥ith 
strong  logic,  and  glowing  eloquence,  he  painted  the 
rapid  encroachments  of  the  white  man,  and  passion- 
ately besought  them  to  join  in  that  league  which,  in 
the  following  year,  well  nigh  swept  the  English 
colonists  from  the  soil  of  New  England. 

The  young  braves  grasped  their  tomahawks  as  they 
listened,  and  the  sympathetic  eye  of  woman  kindled 
with  almost  martial  fire.  But  the  rulers  in  savage, 
as  in  civilized  life,  can  sometimes  be  prudent  men. 
The  chiefs  crushed  with  cold  words  of  sympathy  the 
hopes  which  had  quickened  in  the  smiles  of  the 
people.  Miahcomo  —  the  same  who  had  led  the 
tribe  from  the  pursuit  of  the  English  —  still  ruled 
them;  and  the  young  warriors  muttered  that  the 
horrors  of  the  last  night  of  Fort  Mystic,  had  turned 


WAHCOXAH.  271 

his  blood  to  water  at  the  thought  of  the  Long 
Knives  —  although  bold  as  an  eagle  towards  aught 
else.  In  more  cautious  tones  they  whispered,  that 
if  ever  a  spark  of  the  old  fire  rekindled  in  Miahcomo's 
breast,  the  wily  and  cowardly  priest  Tashmu  was 
always  at  hand  to  quench  it.  Thus  the  mission  of 
Philip  failed,  and  the  tribe  continued  in  peace. 

In  the  early  summer,  nearly  two  years  after  the 
visit  of  Philip,  Miahcomo  and  his  warriors  were 
summoned  to  meet  the  Mohawks  —  to  whom  they 
had  become  feudatories  —  beyond  the  Taghconics. 
Trusting  to  the  quiet  of  the  valley,  the  village  was 
left  in  charge  of  the  women,  and  a  few  decrepit  old 
men.  Among  the  former  was  Wahconah,  the  old 
chief's  favorite  daughter,  a  young  lady  of  singular 
personal  attractions,  and  skilled  in  all  the  fine  arts 
in  vogue  among  her  countrywomen  —  especially  in 
that  of  angling. 

What  with  all  these  accomplishments,  and  the  high 
rank  of  her  father,  it  is  little  wonder  that  Wahconah 
was  the  idol  of  all  the  young  men  of  the  village,  and, 
although  yet  almost  a  child  in  years,  had^ — so  the 
rumor  ran  —  received  offers  matrimonial  from  a 
certain  mysterious  Mohawk  dignitary.  This  latter 
worthy,  the  wigwam  gossips  unanimously  agreed, 
would  carry  off  the  prize,  whenever  he  came  in  person 
to  claim  it  —  for  it  was  a  thing  unheard  of  in  Indian 
wooing,  that  a  brave  of  fifty  scalps  should  sue  in  vain. 

The  young  gallants  of  the  Housatonic  did  not, 
for  all  this,  remit  one  whit  of  their  attentions,  so 
that,  while   they  were  over  the   border    with  her 


272  TAGHCONIC. 

father,  the  hours  hung  heavily  on  the  hands  of 
Wahconah.  It  was,  perhaps,  to  while  away  the 
tediousness;  perhaps  to  get  a  nice  dish  for  her 
lodge,  that  the  maiden,  one  sunny  afternoon  in 
June,  took  her  fishing  lines  and  wandered  up  the 
river  to  our  cascade.  Before  the  sun  went  down, 
her  success  had  been  abundant,  and  she  only  waited 
for  one  more  last  prize  —  a  habit  which  I  notice  is 
still  invariable  with  successful  people,  be  they 
anglers,  speculators,  or  what  not. 

But  Wahconah  did  not,  after  all,  seem  to  have 
fully  set  her  heart  upon  this  final  prize.  On  the 
contrary,  she  lay  luxuriously  back  upon  the  soft 
greensward,  playfully  twining  a  few  scarlet  colum- 
bines in  her  dark  hair,  and  smoothing  softly  down 
the  gay  feathers  of  the  oriole  and  blue  bird  that 
decorated  the  edges  of  her  white  deer-skin  robe  — 
a  garment  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  rather 
excessive  in  its  Bloomerism,  considering  the  primi- 
tive nature  of  the  wearer's  pettiloons;  but  that 
was  the  fashion  of  the  day,  and  no  fault  of  Wah- 
conah's. 

The  child-like  maiden  revelled  in  the  very  fullness 
of  delightful  revery.  "With  a  gentle,  undisturbing 
thrill,  she  felt  the  richly  colored  clouds  fill  her  with 
their  delicious  warmth;  she  dipped  her  little  foot 
in  the  stream  and  laughed  aloud  to  feel  the  soft 
caresses  of  the  current;  she  mocked  the  black-bird 
that  sung  upon  the  oak,  and  the  squirrel  that  chirped 
upon  the  hickory;  she  threw  flowers  and  leaves  upon 
the  wave,  and  smiled  maidenly  when  two  chanced 


WAHCONAH.  273 

to  meet  and  float  together  down  the  stream  —  for 
that  was  a  love  omen.  That  must  have  been  a 
pleasant  sight  in  the  summer  twilight,  almost  two 
hundred  years  ago. 

Pity  if  it  had  been  lost  !  —  as  it  was  not;  for  all 
the  while  a  young  warrior  had  been  looking  on, 
from  the  shelter  of  a  wood  on  the  other  side  of  the 
stream.  It  was  certainly  indelicate  in  him  to  play 
so  long  the  spy  upon  a  maiden's  reveries,  but  one 
cannot  lind  it  in  his  heart  to  blame  too  severely, 
when  he  considers  the  temptation;  and,  besides, 
that  the  offender  was  but  a  mere  savage,  who 
never  had  the  advantage  of  the  counsels  of  Chester- 
field, Abbott,  or  any  "  Young  Man's  Friend  "  what- 
ever. The  promptings  of  nature,  however,  did  at 
last  suggest  to  him  the  impropriety  of  his  course; 
or  perhaps  he  grew  impatient.  At  all  events,  he 
hailed  Wahconah,  in  the  flowery  language  of  Indian 
gallantry,  "  Qua  Alangua  !  "  that  is  to  say,  "  Hail  I 
Bright  Star  !  " 

Wahconah,  startled  at  the  sudden  appearance  of 
a  strange  warrior,  in  the  absence  of  her  tribesmen, 
sprang  to  her  feet;  but  preserving  .the  calmness  be- 
fitting Miahcomo's  daughter,  replied  "  Qua  Sesah  !  " 
that  is  "  Hail !  Brother  !  "  "  Nessacus,"  continued 
the  stranger,  introducing  himself,  "Nessacus  is 
weary  with  flying  before  the  Long  Knives,  and  his 
people  faint  by  the  way.  Will  the  Bright  Star's 
people  shut  their  lodges  against  their  brethren  ?  " 

Miahcomo  has  gone  toward  the  setting  sun," 
replied  the  maiden  —  who   by  this  time  had  pro- 


214:  TAGHCONIC. 

bably  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Nessacus  was 
a  very  handsome  young  man,  and  well  behaved  — 
**  but  his  lodges  are  always  open.  Let  my  brother's 
people  follow,  and  be  welcome." 

A  signal  from  the  young  chief  brought  a  weary, 
travel-worn  band  to  his  side,  and  Wahconah  led  the 
way  to  the  village,  while  Nessacus  related  to  her  the 
sad  story  of  Philip's  defeat  and  death.  "  They  waste 
ns,"  he  said,  "  as  the  pestilence  which  forerun  them 
"Wasted  our  fathers." 

"  The  Manitou  is  angry  with  his  red  children," 
said  Wahconah;  "  He  makes  the  white  man  mighty, 
by  the  strength  of  the  long  knife  and  the  fire  bird." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  responded  her  companion  bitterly, 
"  but  the  traitor's  tongue  at  our  council  fires,  and  the 
traitor's  arrow  upon  our  war-path." 

Wahconah  remembered  what  the  people  whispered 
concerning  Tashmu,  and  was  silent. 

Thus  they  came  to  the  village;  but  I  must  let  pass 
the  welcome,  and  the  housekeeping  as  well,  until 
Miahcomo's  return.  Sufiice  it  that  in  those  pleasant 
days  in  that  moon  of  flowers,  the  young  people  did 
precisely  what  you  and  I  would  have  been  likely  to 
do:  fell  violently  in  love;  and,  what  was  more,  in 
utter  disregard  of  Indian  notions  of  propriety,  con- 
fessed it  to  each  other  —  a  breach  of  aboriginal 
etiquette,  you  will  the  more  readily  pardon,  if  you 
know  experimentally,  as  I  have  no  doubt  you  do, 
how  dementing  is  the  glance  of  a  bright  eye  and  the 
bloom  of  a  damask  cheek  in  the  soft  light  of  a  June 


WAHCONAH.  275 

evening,  when  your  heart  is  as  full  of  love  as  the  air 
is  of  fragrance. 

Four  suns  had  rij^ened  the  passion  of  our  new 
lovers,  and  a  fifth  was  shining  genially  upon  it,  when 
a  messenger  came  in,  announcing  the  near  approach 
of  Miahcomo;  and,  as  the  custom  was,  all  the  people 
went  out  to  meet  him.  What  visions  of  happiness, 
our  dreamers  had  built  up  in  their  barbarous  way,  I 
cannot  tell :  nor  do  I  know  whether,  as  a  rule,  Indian 
sires  have  such  a  fatal  way  of  laying  siege  to  air- 
castles,  as  more  civilized  fathers  use:  so  you  can 
guess  as  well  as  I,  whether  any  tremblings  troubled 
the  hearts  of  our  young  friends,  akin  to  ivhat  young 
Squire  Mansfield  and  old  Banker  Barker's  daughter 
might  experience  in  corresponding  circumstances. 
But,  remember,  one  love  is  much  like  another. 

Wahconah  and  the  chief  of  her  guests  stood  to- 
gether on  a  shaded  knoll  as,  just  up  the  valley,  the 
returning  warriors  came  in  sight.  Their  leader  is 
described  as  a  fine  old  hero  as  one  should  desire  to 
see.  His  tall  sinewy  frame  was  scarcely  bent  by  the 
snows  of  seventy  years;  every  wrinkle  in  his  face 
was  firm  as  if  it  were  a  new  sinew  of  added  strength; 
his  eye,  keen  and  piercing  as  that  of  his  youngest 
archer. 

By  the  chief's  side,  walked  a  different  figure; 
meek  even  to  cringing,  with  an  uncertain  step,  and 
weak,  restless,  unquiet  eye.  It  was  the  priest,  Tash- 
mu  —  one  of  that  strange  caste,  often  hated,  some- 
times despised,  but  always  feared  by  the  aborigines. 
This  Tashmu  was  a  constant  attendant  upon  Miah- 


276  TAGHCONIC. 

como,  and,  it  was  said  had  acquired  a  mysterious  and 
powerful  influence  over  the  sachem's  mind. 

Wahconah  shrank  from  the  presence  of  the  wizard 
as  the  summer  flower  shrinks  from  the  north  wind; 
but  his,  was,  for  once,  not  the  most  unwelcome  figure 
which  met  her  eye.  With  her  father  and  his  spiritual 
adviser,  came  a  burly  warrior,  not  positively  old, 
nor  absolutely  ugly  —  only  a  little  smoke-dried  or  so, 
and  marked  by  transverse  and  obverse  scars,  which, 
although  doubtless  honorable,  might  have  been  dis- 
pensed with  as  matters  of  mere  beauty.  Grace  would 
have  likened  his  face  to  a  smoked  ham  ornamentally 
slashed.  He  was  evidently  conscious  of  his  renown, 
and  wore  the  scalps  which  hung  dangling  in  pro- 
fusion about  him,  as  proudly  as  ever  civilized  hero 
his  jewelled  star  or  blushing  ribbon.  Wahconah 
guessed  but  too  shrewdly,  that  this  was  her  Mohawk 
suitor  —  although  he  was  far  too  dignified  a  character 
to  conduct  his  wooing  in  the  unceremonious  manner 
which  suited  his  young  rival.  Perhaps  it  had  been 
awkward  work  had  he  tried. 

When  the  parties  met,  a  few  words  explained  to 
the  chief,  the  character  of  the  strangers,  and  why 
they  were  his  guests;  which  ensured  a  hearty  con- 
firmation of  the  welcome  extended  them  by  his 
daughter.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  medita- 
tions upon  learning  the  new  disasters  of  his  race, 
and  however  bitter  were  the  memories  they  recalled, 
they  did  not  hinder  his  holding  high  revel  that 
night  upon  the  banks  of  the  brook;  where  feasts 
were  celebrated  and  athletic   games  held  in  honor 


WAHCONAH. 


211 


at  once  of  all  his  guests.  Such  was  the  courteous 
custom  of  the  woods.  I  leave  you  to  guess  whose 
eyes  brightened  as  Nessacus  carried  off  all  the 
prizes  for  daring  feats,  and  skillful ;  and  whose 
darkened  as  the  brawny  arms  and  square  frame  of 
the  Mohawk,  Yonnongah,  excelled  all  in  their 
marvellous  strength.  There  was  yet  another  eye 
stealthily  and  intently  watching  every  glance  and 
.motion,  and  divining  the  thoughts  of  careless  hearts. 
For  Tashmu  was  already,  by  his  evil  instinct,  the 
enemy  of  the  young  exile. 

Nessacus  was  no  laggard  in  love  nor  in  business. 
Early  on  the  morning  after  the  feast,  he  repaired  to 
the  lodge  of  Miahcomo,  and  the  two  remained  long 
in  conference.  The  visit  was  again  and  again  re- 
peated, but  still  the  nature  of  their  consultations 
did  not  transpire:  only  the  name  of  Wahconah  was 
mixed  in  the  gossip  concerning  them;  and  it  was 
surmised  that  the  courtship  of  Yonnongah  was 
perhaps  getting  in  a  bad  way.  The  young  chief 
was  certainly  gaining  the  favor  of  the  old,  and,  as 
the  people  hoped,  undermining  the  influence  of  the 
dread-inspiring  Tashmu :  love  was  casting  out  fear. 
But  the  Mohawk  was  powerful  and  the  priest  crafty; 
and  both  were  busy  and  dangerous  enemies.  For 
the  present  it  was  the  part  of  the  latter  to  discover 
the  desires  and  plans  of  Nessacus,  and  bring  them 
into  the  open  day,  where  his  ally  could  attack  them 
with  his  might. 

There  was  no  great  difficulty  in  effecting  the  re- 
velation; for  there  was  no  longer  any  purpose  or 
24 


278  TAGHCONIO. 

possibility  of  concealment.  And  two  propositions 
soon  came  to  be  national  affairs,  for  discussion  at 
the  tribe's  council  fires:  the  first  was  for  the  marriage 
of  Nessacus  and  Wahconah;  the  second  for  the 
migration  of  the  tribe  to  the  west,  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  white  man's  encroachments. 

To  the  first,  Miahcomo  gave  his  support;  but  he 
clung  to  the  spot  where  he  had  ruled  so  long  and 
so  happily. 

On  the  other  hand,  Yonnongah  demanded  the 
maiden  for  his  fourth  wife,  on  the  strength  of  some 
ancient  promise  of  her  father  ;  and  denounced  the 
far-reaching  vengeance  of  his  nation,  if  their  tribu- 
taries should  attempt  to  migrate  beyond  their 
jurisdiction.  The  amorous  old  warrior  seemed  im- 
movably bent  upon  securing  Wahconah'  for  his 
lodge;  alternately  employing  threats  and  those 
sweet  promises,  of  which  even  an  Indian  lover  can 
be  so  profuse  —  especially  in  the  ripe  experience  of 
his  fourth  courtship.  This  was  no  matter  of  jest 
with  the  sorely  perplexed  father  and  sachem;  for 
Yonnongah  was  a  man  of  might  in  his  nation,  and 
would  have  scant  scruples  of  delicacy  in  carrying 
out  his  threats.  All  which,  Tashmu  lost  no  oppor- 
tunity for  urging  upon  his  dismayed  chief,  to  the 
great  detriment  of  our  hero's  suit. 

Nessacus  soon  saw  how  matters  were  tending,  and 
took  a  bold,  impetuous  man's  short  way  out  of  the 
difficulty,  by  challenging  his  rival  to  decide  the  issue 
by  arms.  Yonnongah,  who,  to  do  him  justice,  was 
as  fearless  as  Nessacus  himself,  closed  at  once  with 


WAHCONAH.  279 

the  proposal;*  but  the  priest  was  not  thus  to  be 
balked  of  his  chance  for  villainy.  Signs  and  potents 
multiplied  marvellously:  not  a  bird  could  fly,  or  a 
fish  swim,  or  a  cloud  float,  but  each  and  all  were 
pregnant  with  divine'  prohibition  of  the  proposed 
duel.  The  powers  above  and  below  combined  to 
forbid  it.  The  thuuder  muttered  the  supernal  veto; 
the  winds  breathed  it;  the  stars  winked  it.  If  one 
could  put  perfect  faith  in  Tashmu,  never  was  such 
a  commotion  in  heaven  and  "  elsewhere,'*  as  the 
coming  combat  had  created.  The  ordeal  of  arms 
was  abandoned. 

It  was  only  fair,  since  the  gods  had  issued  their 
fiat  against  one  method  of  solving  the  tribe's  per- 
plexity, that  they  should  provide  another.  So 
thought  Tashmu,  and  exclaimed  in  the  council, 
"  Let  the  Great  Spirit  speak  !  " 

"  Let  the  Great  Spu-it  speak,  and  we  will  obey," 
repeated  Miahcomo  reverently. 

And  Yonnongah  said :  "  It  is  well  !  " 
It  was  then  proclaimed  that  Tashmu  would,  by 
divination,  enquire  that  night,  in  the  Wizard's 
Glen,  how  the  will  of  the  Manitou  should  be  as- 
certained; and  a  "  bad  spell "  was  denounced  against 
all  who  should  disturb  his  incantations,  by  going 
beyond  the  precincts  of  the  village. 

Many  predicted  ill  to  Nessacus  from  this  com- 
mittal of  his  fate  to  the  hands  of  a  well-known 
enemy;  but  none  ventured  to  remonstrate  against 
a  decree  recognized  by  law  as  heaven-inspired :  and 
still  more  venturesome  would  it  have  been  to  rebel 


280  TAGHCONIC. 

against  the  edict,  if  it  emanated,  as  some  believed, 
from  authority  the  reverse  of  heavenly. 

A  few  rods  below  the  cataract  of  Wahconah  Falls 
is,  or  was,  a  sharp  rock  which  midway  divides  the 
stream.  At  the  date  of  our  tradition,  the  current 
flowed  smoothly  and  evenly  on  the  two  sides  of  it, 
and  it  had  often  been  used,  like  the  flight  of  birds, 
the  aspect  of  clouds  and  other  simple  objects  in 
nature,  to  ascertain  the  will  of  heaven.  Upon  the 
night  of  Tashmu's  supposed  divination  in  the  "  Wiz- 
ard's Glen,"  that  respectable  minister  of  religion 
might,  instead,  have  been  seen  here,  assisted  by  the 
stronger  arms  of  his  Mohawk  friend,  tugging  away 
at  certain  great  rocks  which  lay  near  the  shore,  and 
which  they  finally  contrived  to  place  in  the  water, 
so  as  to  impede  the  current  upon  one  side. 

At  this  same  spot,  by  the  river  side,  a  day  or  two 
afterwards,  the  tribe  were  assembled,  and  it  was  an- 
nounced to  them  that  Manitou  had  delegated  the 
spirit  of  the  stream  to  settle  their  difiiculties.  In 
other  words  —  a  small  canoe,  curiously  carved  with 
mysterious  hieroglyphics,  was  to  be  launched  midway 
in  the  river  and,  as  the  current  chanced  to  carry  it 
on  one  side  or  the  other  of  the  dividing  rock,  the 
questions  in  dispute  were  to  be  decided.  This  was 
a  mode  of  solving  knotty  points  by  no  means  un- 
common, and  which,  therefore,  excited  no  surprise, 
except  that  the  priest's  chances  for  trickery  seemed  to 
be  lessened.  Simple  souls  !  who  knew  not  that  what 
appears  the  fairest  field  often  affords  the  best  harveet 
to  accomplished  knaves  ! 


WAHCONAH.  281 

An  "  era  of  good  feeling  "  seemed  now  to  dawn. 
All  parties  hastened  to  adopt  this  as  a  "  finality." 
Tashmu,  in  oily  words,  wished  well  to  his  brother 
Nessacus;  and  Nessacus  resigned  himself  unreserv- 
edly, to  the  care  of  his  brother  Tashmu.  The  priest 
was  as  much  puzzled  as  pleased  at  this  sudden  access 
of  confidence;  but  it,  at  least,  made  his  part  easy 
to  play. 

A  solemn  feast  was  now  held;  and  the  magical' 
bark,  freighted  with  so  many  hopes,  was  then  poised 
in  the  middle  of  the  stream.  Miahcomo  was  placed 
in  savage  state,  at  a  conspicuous  point,  while  Yon- 
nongah  and  his  rival  were  assigned  separate  sides  of 
the  river. 

"Let  Manitou  speak  !  "  exclaimed  the  priest;  and 
the  sacred  canoe,  released  from  its  moorings,  floated 
steadily  down  the  stream — inclining  now  to  the  right 
hand,  now  to  the  left.  All  eyes  intently  followed  its 
course,  hardly  doubting  that,  by  some  charm  or  other, 
Tashmu  would  at  last  cause  it  to  pass  near  Yonnon- 
gah.  You  mil  guess  that  none  counted  more  con- 
fidently on  such  a  result  than  that  worthy  himself. 
Still  the  bark  floated  regardlessly  on,  until  it  touched 
the  magic  rock  —  hung  poised  there  for  a  moment, 
then  seemed  to  incline  toward  the  Mohawk;  but,  the 
inconstant  current  striking  it  obliquely,  it  swung 
slowly  round,  as  upon  a  pivot,  and  passed  down  the 
stream,  by  the  feet  of  Nessacus. 

"  Wagh  !  the  Great  Spirit  hath  spoken,  and  it  is 
good?"  exclaimed  Miahcomo;  and  the  people  whose 


282  TAGHCONIC. 

hearts  the  young  chief  had  somehow  gained,  shouted 
"  Ho  !  It  is  good  !  " 

The  priest  and  his  accomplice  gazed  at  each  other 
in  silent  astonishment,  that  Heaven  could  possibly 
decide  against  arguments  of  such  weight  as  they  had 
used.  The  former,  for  a  moment,  began  to  suspect 
that  a  great  God  might  possibly,  in  reality,  rule  in 
the  affairs  of  men  —  making  him  to  bless  whom  he 
would  have  cursed.  But  the  idea  was  too  mighty 
for  him,  and  he  recurred,  naturally,  to  a  suspicion  of 
treachery.  I  need  not  say,  however,  that  he  had  his 
own  reasons  for  not  pressing  an  immediate  investiga- 
tion. I  do  not  know  that  it  ever  occurred  to  him 
that  Nessacus  might  have  been  a  witness  to  his  pious 
midnight  labors,  and  improving  upon  the  hint,  ren- 
dered them  abortive. 

The  assent  of  all  parties  was  accordingly  given  to 
the  proposed  marriage;  and  the  time  which  inter- 
vened between  the  trial  and  a  "  lucky  day,"  was  to  be 
filled  up  with  feasting  and  revelry.  The  disappear- 
ance of  Tashmu  from  the  scene  added  to  the  hilarity 
of  the  occasion,  and  all  was  wild  merriment. 

But  alarming  intelligence  interrupted  their  festi- 
vities. The  terrible  Major  Talcott,  with  his  soldiers, 
had  pursued  the  brave  sachem  of  Quaboag  across 
the  mountains,  and  slain  him  with  more  than  two 
score  of  his  best  warriors,  at  Mahaiwe,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Housatonic,  not  thirty  miles  from  the  set- 
tlement of  Miahcomo.  Even  their  temporary  secu- 
rity was  gone;  the  mountain  barrier  was  already 
passed. 


TVAHCOXAH.  283 

The  fugitives  from  the  battle  at  Mahaiwe  came 
thronging  in,  but  at  last  brought  intelligence  that  the 
invaders  had  returned.  A  party  of  them  brought, 
also,  the  missing  Tashmu,  whom  they  accused  of 
having  offered  to  lead  the  enemy  to  the  refuge  of 
Nessacus.  The  evidence  of  his  guilt  was  complete, 
and  the  fate  of  the  criminal  was  not  delayed  by 
any  unnecessary  judicial  forms. 

Only  a  want  of  provisions  had  prevented  Major 
Tallcott  from  accepting  the  wizard's  kind  offer, 
and  he  might  now  return,  at  any  moment,  to  profit 
by  it.  The  best  haste  was  accordingly  made  in  their 
migration,  and  before  the  November  winds  blew, 
Nessacus  had  led  them  to  a  home  in  the  west,  where 
they  became  a  great  tribe,  and  flourished  for  many 
generations,  before  they  again  heard  the  white  man's 
rifle. 

As  for  Wahconah,  the  story  of  her  happiness 
comes  down  to  us,  through  Indian  traditions,  faint 
and  far,  but  sweet  as  the  perfume  which  a  western 
gale  might  bring  from  a  far-off  prairie. 


XX. 

MAPLEWOOD  AND  BERKSHIRE'S  BEAUTY. 

Strowed  with  pleasaunce,  whose  fayre  grassy  grownd. 

Mantled  with  greene  and  goodly  beautified 

With  all  the  ornaments  of  Flora's  pride. —  Fairie  Queene. 


It  is  like  a  picture  in  an  old  story  book  about 
France  la  belle^  with  arching  trees  in  front,  a  temple 
and  chateau  in  the  back-ground,  and  maidens  and 
peasant-girls  in  all  —  is  the  scene  at  our  Young 
Ladies'  Institute,  of  a  pleasant  summer  twilight. 
All  its  light  hearted  inmates  are  out  in  full  glee, 
with  circling  games  and  ringing  laughter  —  the 
truest  children  of  health,  content,  and  innocence. 

But  all  are  not  in  the  giddy  group:  some  have 
separated  from  it,  and,  in  couples,  with  arms  affec- 
tionately inter-twined,  are  slowly  walking  down  the 
long  paths,  pouring  into  each  other's  ears  the  precious 
secrets  of  maiden  confidence  —  all  the  hopes,  the 
dreams,  the  fears  which  can  find  a  lodging  place  in 
pure  hearts.  Very  precious  are  those  hopes  and 
fears;  although  neither  may  ever  be  realized,  yet 
shall  they  be  a  part  of  life  and  a  part  of  the  woman 
in  all  her  future.  In  this  life  of  ours,  we  pile  dream 
upon  dream,  effort  upon   disappointed  effort,  until 


MAPLEWOOD.  285 

the  apparent  fruitlessness  attains  to  some  sort  of 
fruition  and  reality.  There  are  few  things  in  poetry- 
more  beautifully  and  truthfully  said,  than  these 
lines  of  Henry  Taylor: 

"  The  tree 
Sucks  kindlier  nurture  from  a  soil  enriched 
By  its  own  fallen  leaves;  and  man  is  made 
In  heart  and  spirit  from  deciduous  hopes, 
And  things  which  seem  to  perish." 

Under  the  vine  shaded  bowers,  or  by  the  sparkling 
fountain,  sits  here  and  there  a  solitary  maiden,  with 
thoughts,  perhaps,  far  away  in  a  happy  home; 
striving  to  bring  to  her  fancy  the  family  group  as 
it  is  in  the  old  homestead  at  the  pleasant  close  of 
day.  She  may  well  be  pardoned  if,  even  in  this 
pleasant  home  of  learning,  she  steals  a  little  while 
from  young  companionship,  to  let  the  warm  but  not 
bitter  tears  run  freely  down  her  cheeks.  She  will 
soon  rejoin  the  merry  circle,  not  the  least  merry 
there. 

I  used  constantly  to  attend  the  examinations,  ex- 
hibitions and  concerts  in  the  pretty  chapel.  I  don't 
go  so  often  now.  The  fact  is  the  girls  get  my  poor 
mind  into  a  fearful  muddle  with  their  sines,  cosines, 
sonata^,  arias,  ballads,  tangents,  French  nasals,  sub- 
jectives,  German  gutturals,  objectives,  and  all  the 
rest;  till  I  go  home  and  dream  that  "Ah,  non 
giunge  "  is  Greek  for  the  segment  of  a  circle,  and 
that  some  delicious  voice  is  trilling  out  in  notes 
that  reach  E  alt.,  a  +  b  —  c  ^  x  f  How  it  did  wring 
my  heart  one  anniversary  day  —  that  is  the  feminine 


286  TAGHCONIC. 

of  "  commencement  "  —  to  see  a  venerable  Doctor 
in  Divinity  utterly  non-plussed  by  a  saucy  Miss 
wliom  he  had  under  cross-examination  as  to  her 
theology.  "  You  did  not  learn  that  here  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed in  astonishment  at  some  startling  hetero- 
doxy." "  Oh  dear,  no  sir  !  "  was  the  pert  response, 
"  I  knew  it  a  long  while  before  I  came  here  !  "  The 
good  man  laughed  a  polite  little  laugh;  but  he 
looked  much  less  the  great  divine  he  certainly  was, 
than  his  conqueror  did  the  little  divinity  she  very 
possibly  was  not. 

It  was  not  so  in  the  good  old  times;  but  now  we 
are  required  to  believe  that  beauty  and  brains  are 
as  natural  concomitants  as  strawberries  and  cream. 
"  Well,"  as  I  once  heard  two  astute  politicians  of 
opposing  schools,  agree  as  they  went  out  from  one 
of  Wendell  Phillip's  lectures  on  Female  Suffrage, 
**  Well,  I  suppose  we  must  submit  to  the  inevitable." 
But  they  did  not  vote  for  it,  nevertheless. 

The  grounds  of  Maplewood  are  very  beautiful. 
Nothing  in  our  village  is  more  fascinating  to  the 
Stranger's  eye  than  its  lawns,  groves  and  winding 
avenues,  with  their  rich  ornamentation  of  bowers, 
fountains,  vases,  and  flowers;  and,  grouped  in  the 
center  of  all,  the  classic  chapel,  the  balconied  dor- 
mitories and  the  elephantine  gymnasium.  The 
latter,  by  the  by,  was  the  grand  old  church  in  which 
Thomas  Allen,  the  Bennington  battle-parson.  Presi- 
dent Allen  of  Bowdoin  College,  President  Humphrey 
of  Amherst,  Rev.  Dr.  John  Todd  and  other  noted 
divines  once   preached  as  pastors,  and  in  whio.h  Dr. 


MAPLEWOOD.  287 

Holmes  first  read  his  "  Ploughboy."  Maplewood  is 
ilso  historical  in  another  point;  occupying  the 
grounds  which  in  the  war  of  1812  belonged  to  the 
cantonment  where  thousands  of  national  troops 
gathered  for  the  campaigns  on  the  northern  border; 
and  in  which  the  prisoners  of  war,  taken  in  those 
campaigns,  were  confined:  fruitful  subjects  for  the 
young  ladies'  themes,  as  it  seems  to  me.  After  the 
war,  Professor  Chester  Dewey,  the  eminent  natural- 
ist, established  here  a  boy's  school  of  high  reputa- 
tion: and,  in  1841,  Rev.  Wellington  H.  Tyler  foun- 
ded the  present  institute,  and  soon  gained  for  it  a 
grand  reputation. 

The  world  has  found  out  the  picturesque  charms, 
and  not  unpicturesque  comforts,  of  Maplewood;  and 
now,  from  June  to  October  it  is  permitted  to  in- 
vade the  sacred  precincts  with  its  fashions  and 
pleasures.  Even  the  dance— tabooed  in  term-time,  or 
masked  as  "  steps  and  figures  "  —  treads  gently  the 
tempting  floor  between  the  Corinthian  columns  of 
Gymnasium  Hall;  and  serenades  sweetly  thrill  the 
balconies  sacred  from  such  follies  for  the  rest  of  the 
year.  Maplewood  Institute  becomes  Maplewood 
Hall:  just  as  you  may  have  read  in  weird  story  of 
enchanted  persons  who  passed  their  lives  alternating 
between  two  widely  different  shapes. 

It  is  all  very  odd,  and  it's  all  very  charming;  but 
I  did  not  bring  you  here  on  that  account.  You 
asked  me,  sometime  ago  —  yes :  I  am  sure  you  did  — 
"  What  is  it,  after  all,  that  makes  this  Berkshire  so 
very  beautiful  !     Now   come    to  the  tower  of  this 


288  TAGHCONIC. 

gymnasium,  which  stands  practically  in  the  center 
of  our  glorious  amphitheatre  of  hills,  and  I  will 
show  you. 

Yes,  the  views  certainly  are  comprehensive  and 
superb:  we  will  attend  to  them  in  a  moment.  But 
first  listen  to  Mr.  Ruskin,  whom  I  suppose  you  will 
recognize  as  a  competent  interpreter  of  the  laws  of 
beauty. 

"  That  country  is  always  the  most  beautiful  which  is  made 
up  of  the  most  curves." 

That  is  the  great  teacher's  absolute  dictum  di- 
rectly applicable  here  :  and  listen  to  another,  appli- 
cable by  indirection  but  clearly  pertinent. 

"  In  all  beautiful  aesig-ns  of  exterior  descent,  a  certain  regu- 
larity is  necessary  ;  the  lines  should  be  graceful,  but  they 
must  also  balance  each  other,  slope  answering  to  slope,  and 
statue  to  statue." 

And  now  observe  what  may  be  considered  Mr. 
Ruskin 's  application  of  the  first-quoted  law.  It 
forms  part  of  his  ideal  description  or  characteriza- 
tion of  "  the  picturesque  blue  country"  of  England; 
that  is,  a  country  having  a  blue  distance  of  moun- 
tains : 

"  Its  first  and  most  distinctive  peculiarity  is  its  grace ;  it  is 
all  undulation  and  variety  of  line,  one  curve  passinfr  into 
another  with  the  most  exquisite  softness,  rolling  away  into 
faint  and  far  outlines  of  various  depths  and  decision,  yet  none 
hard  or  harsh ;  and,  in  all  probability,  rounded  oflP  in  the 
near  ground  into  massy  forms  of  partially  wooded  hill, 
shaded  downward  into  winding  dingles  or  cliffy  ravines,  each 
form  melting  imperceptibly  into  the  next,  without  an  edge  or 


Berkshire's  beauty.  289 

"Every  line  is  voluptuous,  floating  and  wavy  in  its  form; 
deep,  rich  and  exquisitely  soft  in  its  color;  drowsy  in  its 
effect,  like  slow,  wild  music;  letting  tlie  eye  repose  upon  it, 
as  on  a  wreath  or  cloud,  without  one  feature  of  harshness  to 
hurt,  or  of  contrast  to  awaken." 

I  cannot  quote  the  whole  description  ;  but  you 
will  find  it  in  the  Essay  upon  the  Poetry  of  Archi- 
tecture; and  grand  reading  the  whole  book  will  be 
for  Berkshire  summer  days. 

But  look  around  you  now.  Mr.  Ruskin  might 
have  written  the  quoted  passages  sitting  here  upon 
this  tower;  and  been  guilty  of  nothing  worse  than 
almost  Pre-Raphaelite  precision.  The  landscape  is 
literally  all  curves:  there  is  not  a  straight  or  un- 
graceful line  in  it,  except  it  be  of  man's  making. 
In  what  graceful  sweeps  those  mountain  walls  were 
thrown  up.  Into  what  an  endless  and  infinitely 
varied  succession  of  interlacing  loops  and  curves, 
the  old  glaciers  scalloped  their  crests  and  indented 
their  ravines.  The  meanderings  of  the  countless 
brooks,  the  serpentine  windings  of  the  Housatonic, 
the  wavy  and  sinuous  contours  of  the  lakes,  soothe 
the  eye  by  the  multitude  of  their  luxurious  curves. 
The  bare  morains,  the  wooded  knolls,  the  mossy 
maple-groves  and  clumpy  stretches  of  willow,  are 
all  soft  and  rounded.  The  shadows  which  lie 
under  the  solitary  trees  on  the  hill  side,  have  no 
harsher  shape  than  that  which  the  fleecy  passing 
cloud  casts  near  them.  Nay,  Nature,  compelling 
man  to  her  own  sweet  mood,  forces  him  to  bend  his 
railroads  and  highways  gently   around  the  circled 

bases  of  her  mountains.     Even  when  he  makes  his 
25 


290  TAGHCONIC. 

ways  straight,  "  Nature  soon  touches  in  her  pic- 
turesque graces,"  and  covers  his  streets  and  his  habi- 
tations with  her  swelling  drapery.  Berkshire,  as  you 
see  it  here,  surely  answers  well  to  Mr.  Ruskin's  de- 
finition of  "  the  most  beautiful  country." 

And  as  to  the  demands  of  the  second  passage 
which  I  have  quoted,  and  to  the  general  requisitions 
of  his  essay;  I  repeat  what  I  have  said  elsewhere: 

"  A  lovelier  landscape  one  mip^ht  not  desire  to  see ;  and 
when  satiated  with  long  luxurious  gazing,  the  spectator  seeks 
to  analyze  the  sources  of  his  delight,  all  the  elements  of 
beauty  justify  his  praise.  To  the  eye  the  valley  here  presents 
the  proportions  which  architects  love  to  give  their  favorite 
structures.  The  symmetry,  too,  with  which  point  answers  to 
opposing  point,  exceeds  the  attainment  of  art. 

"  Variety,  the  most  marvellous,  but  without  confusion,  for- 
bids the  sense  to  tire.  Colors,  the  richest,  softest  and  most 
delicate  charm  the  eye,  and  vary  with  the  ever-changing  con- 
ditions of  the  atmosphere.  Fertile  farms  and  frequent  villages 
imbue  the  scene  with  the  warmth  of  generous  life ;  while, 
over  all,  hangs  the  subdued  grandeur  which  may  well  have 
pervaded  the  souls  of  the  great  and  good  men  who  have  made 
Berkshire  their  home  from  the  days  of  Jonathan  Edwards 
down." 

And  now,  in  order  that  we  may  get  back  to  the 
Institute,  and,  as  I  am  in  moderately  good  humor 
to-night  —  and  moreover  as  it  seems  half-way  per- 
tinent to  the  subject  —  I  will  give  the  young  ladies 
a  little  sermon,  upon  a  German  text,  or  variation 
upon  a  German  theme  —  as  they  may  elect  to  call 
it  —  which  I  made  a  long  while  ago  —  in  fact,  before 
any  of  them  were  born.  It  had  a  little  adventure 
once,  which  may  improve  its  flavor.     After  it  had 


MAPLEAVOOD.  291 

duly  gone  the  rounds  of  the  newspapers,  and  been 
consigned,  as  I  supposed,  to  its  long  home — the  limbo 
of  fugitive  verse  —  it  suddenly  reappeared;  being 
communicated  to  a  "  spiritual "  journal  by  some  great 
departed,  through  a  female  medium  of  Chelsea.  It 
was  tricked  out  in  grave  clothes  of  very  flowery 
prose,  but  I  recognized  the  familiar  thing  in  a 
moment,  and  have  restored  it  to  its  original  versiform 
dress.  Still  I  beg  that  you  will  treat  it  with  the 
regard  due  to  one  who  has  come  back  from  the  tomb 
for  your  instruction. 

Scatter  the  Germs  of  the  Beautiful. 

"  ©treat  eifrig  in  empfdni]Hrf;e  ©emut^er, 
5)e§  ©uteii  iinb  be§  <£d)onen  ©omenforncr, 
©ie  feimen  imb  erbliif^en  bort  ^u  ^aiimeHr 
3)ie  Qolbiie  '"^Jarabiefeefriirfjte  tragen." 


Scatter  the  germs  of  the  beautiful ; 

By  the  wayside  let  them  fall, 
That  the  rose  may  spring  by  the  cottage  side, 

And  the  vine  on  the  garden  wall. 
Cover  the  rough  and  the  rude  of  earth 

With  a  veil  of  leaves  and  flowers, 
And  strew  with  the  opening  bud  and  cup 

The  vath  of  the  summer  hours. 

Scatter  the  germs  of  the  beautiful 

In  the  holy  shrine  of  home; 
Let  the  pure  and  the  fair  and  the  graceful  tbeiv 

In  their  loveliest  luster  come: 
Leave  not  a  trace  of  deformity 

In  the  temple  of  the  heart-, 
But  gather  about  its  hearth,  the  gems 

Of  nature  and  of  art. 


292  TAGHCONIC. 

Scatter  the  germs  of  tlie  beautiful 

In  the  temples  of  our  God ; 
The  God  who  starred  the  uplifted  sky 

And  flowered  the  trampled  sod. 
When  he  built  a  temple  for  himself, 

And  a  home  for  his  priestly  race 
fle  reared  each  arch  in  symmetry, 

And  curved  each  line  in  grace. 

Scatter  the  germs  of  the  beautiful 

In  the  depths  of  the  human  soul ; 
They  shall  blossom  there  and  bear  thee  firotti 

While  the  endless  ages  roll. 
Plant  with  the  pure  and  beautiful 

This  pathway  to  the  tomb, 
And  the  pure  and  fair  about  thy  path 

In  Paradise  shall  bloom 


XXL 

QUAINT  OLD  STOCKBRIDGE. 

Of  silence  is  the  thunder  born. —  Gerald  Massey. 


So  much  has  been  written  about  the  fair  old 
town  of  Stockbridge  that  the  tourist  finds  almost 
every  rood  of  its  soil  already  storied  ground.  Sel- 
dom does  genius  owe  so  much  to  its  dwelling  place, 
and  still  more  rarely  is  the  debt  so  richly  paid. 
The  scenes  which  have  received  their  fame  at  the 
hand  of  Bryant  or  Miss  Sedgwick  need  no  new  cele- 
bration here;  nor  does  the  town  which  has  been  the 
theater  of  so  much  curious  history,  and  the  home  or 
birth-place  of  so  many  men  of  intellectual  power. 
Yet  the  interest  which  already  attaches  to  such 
places  communicates  somewhat  of  its  own  zest  to 
whatever  may  be  newly  written  concerning  them. 
The  world  has  a  singular  craving  to  know  more  of 
that  of  which  it  already  knows  much,  rather  than 
to  follow  the  traveller  in  "  fresh  fields  and  pastures 
new."  You  may  have  noted  that  the  gaping  crowd 
always  have  the  readiest  and  loudest  laugh  for 
their  orator's  stalest  jokes.     They  are  prepared  for 


294  TAGHCONIC. 

the  point  the  moment  it  comes,  while  the  brightest 
of  them  will  not  seize  the  gist  of  the  most  spark- 
ling original  witticism  until  the  opportunity  to 
laugh  at  it  is  long  past.  So,  always,  the  world  feels 
a  comfortable  security  in  enjoying  that  which  has 
before  pleased  and  interested  it:  that  is  the  advan- 
tage that  one  has  in  following  the  path  which  has 
already  been  broken  out  by  genius.  And  in  some 
such  fashion  we  will  explore  old  Stockbridge. 

There  are  many  objects  and  localities  here,  the 
mere  mention  of  which  suggests  to  you  a  story  or  a 
picture,  although  the  story  may  never  have  been 
written,  and  the  picture  may  never  have  been  born 
of  pencil  or  camera.  "  Old  Stockbridge  on  the 
Plain"  is  full  of  these  thought-compelling  objects. 
Cradled  between  hills,  enriched  by  frequent  costly 
villas,  picturesque  cottages  and  handsome  orna- 
mental grounds,  the  world-renowned  model  village 
of  New  England  lies  stretched  for  a  mile  along  a 
level  surface  formed  in  great  part  by  a  singular  em- 
bankment of  the  Housatonic,  which,  although  doubt- 
less the  work  of  nature,  half  deceives  you  by  its 
regularity  into  the  belief  that  it  is  artificial.  The 
river  here  moves  in  its  most  exquisite  curves,  and  is 
bordered  by  its  richest  meadows.  Bryant  in  his 
Reminiscences  of  Miss  Sedgwick  —  published  in  her 
"  Life  and  Letters  "  edited  by  Miss  Dewey  —  thus 
describes  the  scene  as  it  first  met  his  eye  in  the  Oc- 
tober of  1816,  on  his  first  visit  to  southern  Berkshire. 

"  The  woods  were  in  all  tlie  glory  of  autumn,  and  I  well 
remt;mber,  as  I  passed  througli  Stockbridge,  how  much  I  waa 


STOCKBKIDGE.  296 

struck  by  the  beamy  of  the  smooth,  ^reen  meadows,  on  the 
banks  of  that  lovely  riv^er  which  winds  near  the  Sedgwick 
family  mansion :  the  Housatonic  whose  gently  flowing  water 
seemed  tinged  with  the  gold  and  crimson  of  the  trees  that 
overhung  them.  I  admired  no  less  the  contrast  between  this 
soft  scene,  and  the  steep  craggy  hills  that  overlooked  it, 
clothed  with  their  many  colored  forests." 

Wealth  and  time  have,  since  Mr.  Bryant's  picture 
was  drawn,  done  something  to  adorn  the  original; 
nothing  to  mar  its  wild  beauties  or  its  soft  luxuri- 
ance.  It  is  still  sought  by  the  beauty-seeking  artist. 
Before  artist  or  poet,  when  the  pine  and  the  oak  out- 
numbered the  elms,  the  Mohegan  also  loved  it  well. 

Through  this  superb  cradle  of  the  hills,  extends, 
on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  the  noble  avenue 
which,  with  a  few  fine  subsidiary  streets,  forms 
the  old  village  of  story.  This  avenue  is  nearly,  or 
quite,  straight:  but  the  variation  in  the  spacious 
court  yards,  with  their  rich  shrubbery,  and  in  the 
planting  of  the  great  trees,  wards  off  any  impression 
of  stiffness.  The  elms,  in  particular,  many  of  them 
of  more  than  a  century's  growth,  are  among  the 
most  magnificent  in  New  England.  Miss  Sedgwick, 
in  one  of  her  letters,  gives  the  following  character- 
istic instance  of  her  remembrance  of  them  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic: 

"  One  of  the  cultivated  women  of  England  said  to  me,  in  a 
soothing  tone,  on  my  expressing  admiration  of  English  trees, 
*  Oh,  you  will  have  such  in  time,  when  your  forests  are  cut 
down,  and  they  have  room  for  their  limbs  to  spread.'  I 
smiled  and  was  silent ;  but,  if  I  saw  in  vision  our  graceful, 
drooping  elms,  embowering  roods  of  ground,  and,  as  I  looked 
at   the   stiff,   upright   English   elm,    had   something   of   the 


296  TAGncoxic. 

Pharisaic   '  liolier  than  thou  '  flit  over  my  mind,  I  may    be 
forgiven." 

Stockbridge   Street  —  I   believe   that   is  the  re- 
cognized name  for  this  grand  avenue  —  is  sprinkled 
all  along  with  spots  of  historic  or  romantic  interest. 
At  its  western  extremity  is  the  old  burial  ground 
of  the  Mission  Indians;  the  scene  of  Bryant's  poem, 
"  An  Indian  at  the  Burial  Place  of  His  Fathers." 
"  It  is  the  spot  1  came  to  seek  — 
My  father's  ancient  burial  place 
Ere  from  these  vales,  ashamed  and  weak. 
Withdrew  our  wasted  race. 
It  is  the  spot  —  I  know  it  well  — 
,  Of  which  our  old  traditions  tell. 

For  here  the  upland  bank  sends  out 

A  ridge  towards  the  river  side  ; 

I  know  the  shaggy  hills  about, 

The  meadows  smooth  and  wide  — 

The  plains  that,  toward  the  southern  sky. 

Fenced  east  and  west  by  mountains,  lie. 

A  white  man,  g izing  on  the  &cene, 
Would  say  a  lovely  spot  was  here, 
And  praise  the  lawns,  so  fresh  and  green, 
Between  the  hills  so  sheer. 
I  like  it  not  —  I  would  the  jdain 
Lay  in  its  tall  old  woods  again." 
This  ancient  burial-ground  has  long  been  sacred 
from  the  plow,  and  now  has  its  proper  enclosure  and 
monument.     A  few  rods  east  of  it,  on  the  broad 
church  green,  is  the  monument  erected  to  Jonathan 
Edwards,  who  was  pastor  of  the  Mission  church  here, 
from  1751  to  1757:  the  period  in  which  he  wrote  his 
most  celebrated  works. 


STOCKBRIDGE.  297 

The  story  of  this  Indian  mission  —  the  most  suc- 
cessful in  New  England  —  is  entirely  fascinating, 
and  is  worthy  of  a  volume.  Indeed  Miss  Electa 
F.  Jones  has  compiled  an  interesting  book  from 
its  records.  But  I  must  pass  the  story  with  the 
briefest  allusion.  It  was  established  in  1734  at  Great 
Barrington,  but  was  removed  in  1735  to  Stockbridge 
where  the  Indians  were  collected:  the  whole  town- 
ship being  granted  by  the  General  Court  for  that 
purpose. 

A  very  few  carefully  selected  white  families  were 
admitted  to  aid  in  the  civilization  and  christianizing 
of  the  neophytes;  which  the  wise  managers  conceived 
could  be  most  readily  accomplished  by  initiating 
them  into  the  art  of  agriculture.  The  Devil  —  or 
whatever  may  be  his  other  and  true  name  —  well 
understands  the  godly  influence  of  a  farmer's  life; 
and  why  should  not  they  also  whose  mission  and  en- 
deavor are  to  thwart  him  in  his  wiles.  I  hope  you 
recollect  how,  a  great  way  back  in  the  history  of 
our  family,  Satan,  in  the  likeness  of  a  serpent,  set 
about  the  seduction  of  grand-father  Adam  by  dis- 
gusting him  with  his  excellent  situation  as  a  gardener, 
and  putting  it  into  his  silly  head  that  he  could  shine 
in  one  of  the  learned  professions,  or  perhaps  all :  and 
again,  how  the  same  cunning  tempter,  under  the  name 
and  style  of  Mephistophiles,  played  the  deuce  with 
poor,  vain  Faust's  virtue  by  persuading  him  that  a 
farmer's  life  would  be  degrading  to  a  man  of  his 
spirit  and  genius.  The  founders  of  the  Stockbridge 
mission  showed  that  they  had  the  scriptural   com- 


29S  TAGHCONIC. 

bination  of  the  serpent's  wisdom  and  the  dove's  inno- 
cence when  they  employed  the  plow,  as  one  of  the 
weapons  of  their  warfare  against  Hobomoko;  whom 
I  take  to  be  the  same  old  Diabolus  under  an  abori- 
ginal alias.  The  white  families  who  were  sent  out 
on  picket  in  this  semi-spiritual  warfare  did  their 
duty  faithfully,  and  the  mixed  red  and  white  church 
which  resulted  was  harmonious  and  healthful,  be- 
sides being  strikingly  picturesque.  But  the  excep- 
tional success  of  the  Stockbridge  mission  was  without 
dispute,  due  to  its  first  pastor,  the  Rev.  John  Ser- 
geant, who  evinced  as  wonderful  capacity  for  that 
work  as  his  successor  did  for  metaphysics.  The 
mixed  church  flourished  until  1785,  when  the  Indians 
accepted  a  new  home  among  the  Oneidas  of  New 
York:  the  separation  seeming  best  for  both  colors. 
We  will  not  pry  too  curiously  into  the  ultimate 
cause  of  that  voluntary  exile;  but  the  tribe  has  twice 
since  migrated  from  state  to  state  —  flying  from  the 
vices  or  driven  by  the  cupidity  of  the  race  which 
gave  them  their  religion  —  and  are  now  in  Minnesota, 
a  moral  and  intelligent  community,  but  mysteriously 
unworthy  of  American  citizenship. 

To  return  to  their  metaphysical  pastor.  Rev.  Jona- 
than Edwards:  who  was  installed  August  9,  1751; 
got  cleverly  at  work  just  one  year  later  on  his  long 
contemplated  "Treatise  on  the  Freedom  of  the 
Will;"  in  nine  months  nearly  finished  tlie  rough 
draught  of  what  he  originally  intended;  completed 
the  work  before  April,  1753,  and  published  it  in 
1754.     From  July,  1754,  to  January,   1755,  he  was 


JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  299 

incapacited  by  the  chills  aud  fever  incident  to  all 
new  lands,  but  long  since  banished  from  Berkshire. 
Between  the  spring  of  1755  and  the  fall  of  1757,  be- 
sides smaller  works,  he  finished  his  two  essays  upon 
"  Grod's  end  in  Creation "  and  "  the  Nature  of 
Virtue."  The  biographers  say  that  he  gave  to  these 
labors,  the  leisure  left  him  by  his  pastoral  duties: 
one  would  rather  infer  from  the  amount  of  his 
literary  work,  that  he  gave  to  those  duties  the  leisure 
left  him  by  his  pen;  and  the  steady  declension  of 
the  mission  would  tend  to  the  same  conclusion.  But 
his  correspondence  shows  that  he  was  "in  labors 
abundant"  for  the  good  of  his  flock;  and  the  decline 
of  religion  among  them  must  be  traced  to  other 
causes  than  absolute  neglect,  although  the  great 
author  could  hardly  have  been  so  absorbed  in  the 
interests  of  the  mission  as  the  simple  pastor  had  been. 
People  often  talk  also  of  the  profound  quiet  and 
seclusion  in  the  midst  of  which  President  Edwards 
was  able  to  compose  his  subtile  and  recondite 
works.  They  must  have  conceived  that  notion, 
some  dreamy  summer  afternoon,  to  the  lulling  music 
of  rippling  fountains  and  rustling  foliage,  and  after 
listening  perhaps  to  a  less  rugged  sermon  than  the 
mighty  Calvinist  was  wont  to  preach:  there  was 
no  room  for  it  in  the  Stockbridge  of  1753-7.  The 
year  1752,  following  the  deceitful  peace  of  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  was  indeed  a  season  of  some  quiet  on  the 
border,  and  the  new  pastor  seems  to  have  used  it  to 
get  settled  to  his  work.  After  that,  came  troublous 
times.     From  Stockbridge  northward  to  the  haunts 


300  TAGHCONIC. 

of   the   iierce  and   hostile  savages  of   Canada,  the 
forest  was  broken  only  by  Fort  Massachusetts  and 
the  soon-interrupted  settlements  of  Lanesboro'  and 
Pittsfield.     The  Mission  Indians  were  restless,  and 
in  the  spring  of   1753,  the  homicide   of  one  Wam- 
paum corse  by  white  men,  whom  they  thought  in- 
sufficiently punished,  roused  to  fury  the  still  savage 
passions  of  the  young  sannaps.     The  emissaries  of 
the  French   and  the  Canadian  Indians  took  advan- 
tage of  the  ferment.     Plots  and  suspicions  of  plots, 
for  the  destruction  of  the  town,  followed.     Horrible 
orgies,  stimulated  by  large  supplies  of  rum  from 
Kiuderhook,  were  kept  up  for  days  in  the  woods 
west  of  the  village,  for  the   purpose  of  further  in- 
flaming the  rage  of  the  young  red-men.     The  pastor, 
together  with  the  magistrates,  was  constantly  busy, 
enquiring  into  the  nature  and  reality  of  these  affairs, 
and,  when  they  were  found  genuine,  in  ascertaining 
who  and  how  many,  of  the  native  Indians  were  en- 
gaged in  them;  and  what  real  or  supposed  grievances 
had   disaffected    them:    striving   in    every    way    to 
sooth  the  passions   and  allay  the   storm  which  had 
been  raised  with  sedulous  cunning.     At  the  same 
time  Mr.  Edwards,  by  letter  after  letter,  piteously 
implored  the  Provincial  government  to  come  to  the 
relief  of  the  frontier  by  a   commission  of  such  im- 
posing character  that  it  would  salve   the  wounded 
pride  of  the  Indians,  and  also  with  money,  after  the 
aboriginal  custom,  to  wash  out  the  stain  of  blood. 

He  succeeded  at  last.     But  quiet  had  hardly  de- 
scended once  more  upon  the  troubled  valley  when, 


JOXATHAX    EDWARDS.  301 

one   August  evening   in   1754,  two  Mohegans  who 
had  been  out  on  a  hunting  excursion  came  flying 
home    with    the    startling   report   of    burning   and 
massacre   they  had   seen    at  Dutch  Hoosac   which 
had  been  utterly  destroyed  by  five  hundred  Cana- 
dian Indians,  who  were  doubtless  bent  southward  on 
the  same  bloody  errand.    All  was  consternation;  mes- 
sengers were  sent  northwa;-d  to  call  in  the  exposed 
settlers  at   Pittsfield   and    Lanesboro'  —  southward 
and  eastward,  to  summon  aid:  everywhere  to  alarm 
the  country.     This  was  on  Thursday,   the  29th   of 
August,  and  by  Saturday  night  the  town  was  full  of 
armed  men.     Still,  on  Sunday  afternoon,  the  fugi- 
tives  who    came  in  from  Pittsfield,  on  horses  sent 
from  Connecticut  to  bring  them  off,  reported  that 
the  woods  were  full  of  the  enemy,  who  repeatedly 
fired  upon  them,  killing  one  man  while  the  woman 
on  the  pillion  behind  him  barely  escaped  by  the  aid 
of  the  only    settler  in  Lenox.     What  was   worse, 
they  had  picked  up  on  the  hill  above  Stockbrido-e 
Village  a  fatally  wounded  child,  and  on  investiga- 
tion had  discovered   that,  while  the   people  of  the 
town  were  mostly  ac  church,  two  Indians  had  en- 
tered the  house  of  one  Chamberlain,  killed   a  hired 
man  named  Owen,  who  stoutly  resisted  them,  dashed 
out  the  brains  of  one  child,  and  left   another  with 
its  head   cleft  by  a  tomahawk,  near  the  roadside, 
where  it  was  picked  up. 

The  terror  which  ensued  alb  along  the  border  was 
pitiable   beyond    description,  and    it    was    months 

before    it  was  allayed.     The  veteran  Colonel,  Israel 
26 


302  TAGHCONIC. 

Williams,  declared  he  had  never  known  its  equal. 
The  large  body  of  the  enemy  which  destroyed 
Hoosac  proceeded  no  further  south;  which  raised 
the  grave  suspicion  that  the  murders  in  Berkshire 
were  the  work  of  resident  Indians.  The  report  that 
they  were  the  guilty  parties  spread  all  over  the 
Province,  and  in  New  York,  till  it  became  the  duty  of 
their  mission-pastor  to  sift  the  evidence  and  learn 
the  truth.  He  did  so,  and  satisfied  of  their  innocence 
manfully  become  their  warm  defender;  which  — 
in  the  excited  state  of  popular  prejudice  outside 
of  Berkshire,  and  among  the  soldiers  sent  thither  — 
was  no  easy  or  brief  task.  But  he  gave  himself 
to  it,  and  was  also  the  helpful  assistant  of  the  civil 
and  military  authorities  as  long  as  he  remained  in 
Stockbridge;  for  during  all  that  time  it  was  on  a 
more  or  less  threatened  frontier  of  a  province  which 
was  constantly  sending  through  it  troops  for  the 
war  in  New  York  and  Canada. 

Such  was  the  secluded  leisure  and  the  peaceful 
quiet  which  favored  the  composition  of  the  Treatise 
on  the  Will,  and  other  great  works  of  Jonathan 
Edwards.  I  think  that,  if  we  look  the  grand  cata- 
logue carefully  over,  we  shall  find  a  considerable 
number  of  illustrious  books  which  were  written 
without  much  aid  from  ease,  leisure,  quiet  seclusion, 
intellectual  appliances  or  literary  companionship. 

The  missionary,  Sergeant,  first  lived  in  a  house 
which  still  stands  upon  "  The  Hill;"  but,  before  his 
death,  he  built  another  in  the  village,  which  was 
purchased  by  his  successor,  and  is  one  of  the  mem- 


JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  303 

orable  points  upon  Stockbridge  street,  through  which 
we  are  making  such  slow  progress.  It  is  now  the 
property  of  a  classical  and  philosophical  German 
gentleman,  whose  dreams  are  probably  not  badly 
disturbed  by  belief  in  the  calvinistic  dogmas  of  its 
original  owner.  Still  the  house  is  scrupulously 
preserved  in  its  pristine  condition,  and  you  can 
Btill,  if  you  are  not  very  portly,  sit  in  the  little 
closet,  about  six  feet  square,  which  President 
Edwards  called  his  "  study,"  and  in  which  he  did 
such  gigantic  intellectual  work.  It  would  be  scarcely 
ample  for  the  easy  chair  and  commodious  desk 
which  modern  students  require;  and  the  walls 
would  only  hold  the  scantiest  of  libraries  —  so  far 
as  number  of  volumes  go. 

You  may  even  perhaps  sleep  in  the  chamber, 
where,  in  the  wakeful  midnight  hours  which  must 
often  have  been  his,  the  most  severe,  as  well  as  the 
most  subtile,  of  metaphysicians  must  have  shuddered 
under  the  contemplation  of  his  own  terrible  reason- 
ing, with  its  awful  logical  results.  For  my  own 
part,  his  doctrines  gave  me  too  many  cruel  hours  in 
my  boyhood,  for  me  to  desire  ever  again  to  come 
under  their  dreadful  shadow,  even  in  dreams;  but, 
if  you  like,  and  have  strong  nerves,  you  may  sleep 
comfortably  in  the  mighty  reasoner's  bedroom:  for 
his  home  is  now  but  a  summer  hotel. 

On  the  pleasant  church  green,  between  the  Indian 
burial  place  and  the  Edwards  Homestead,  is  the  site 
where  stood  the  plain  meeting  house  in  which  the  mis- 


804  TAGHCONIC. 

sionary,  Sergeant,  first  preached  the  gospel  to  his 
parti-colored  flock.  A  handsome  tower,  surmounted 
by  a  chime  of  fine  bells  —  given  to  the  town  by  Hon. 
David  Dudley  Field  in  1878 — marks  the  site.  And,  as 
their  silvery  music  rings  out  daily  among  the  echoing 
hills,  it  marks  also  time's  changes  since  the  huge 
East  Indian  conch-shell,  the  gift  of  the  pious  people 
of  Boston  to  the  mission,  and  blown  by  stout  David 
Kau-nau-nee-ka-nuk  in  tones  which  "  resounded  from 
center  to  circumference  of  the  town,"  summoned  the 
white  man  and  the  red,  to  worship  their  common 
Creator  in  one  rude  but  sufficient  temple. 

Passing,  without  comment,  some  interesting  his- 
toric localities,  and  also  the  handsome  marble 
library  building  among  whose  treasures  some  rich 
relics  of  the  old  times  are  preserved,  we  come  to 
bold,  beautiful,  half  rock,  half  grass-clad,  oak- 
crowned,  laurel-wreathed  Laurel  Hill;  upon  whose 
southern  verge  we  shall  find  the  "  Sacrifice  Rock.'* 
Miss  Sedgwick  thus  described  both  hill  and  rock  in 
*'  Hope  Leslie."  where  she  first  introduced  them  to 
fame. 

"They  [the  chief  Mononotto,  his  prisoner,  daughter,  and 
warriors]  had  entered  the  expanded  vale  by  following  the 
windings  of  the  Housatonic  around  a  hill,  conical  and  easy  of 
ascent,  except  on  the  side  which  overlooked  the  river,  where 
halfway  from  the  base  to  the  summit,  it  rose,  a  perpendicu- 
lar rock,  bearing  on  its  beetling  front  the  age  of  centuries. 
On  every  side  the  hill  was  garlanded  with  laurels,  now  in  full 
and  profuse  bloom,  here  and  there  surmounted  by  an  in- 
tervening pine,  spruce  or  hemlock,  whose  seared  winter 
foliage  was  fringed  with  the  bright,  tender  sprouts  of  spring.*' 


JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  305 

For  the  story  which  attaches  to  the  spot,  you 
must  look  in  Miss  Sedgwick's  enchanting  novel. 
The  hill,  on  which  the  oak  is  now,  if  not  the  most 
abounding,  the  most  conspicuous,  tree,  was  given  by 
the  Sedgwick  family,  many  years  ago,  to  the 
Laurel  Hill  Association,  to  be  forever  preserved  as 
a  public  resort.  This  famous  institution  —  which 
holds  a  place  among  village  improvement  societies 
like  that  which  the  Berkshire  Agricultural  does  in 
in  its  own  class  of  organizations  —  owes  its  existence 
to  this  gift,  and  it  has  not  only  managed  the  dona- 
tion with  rare  good  taste;  but  has  been  a  chief  in- 
strument in  making  the  village  of  Stockbridge  the 
perfect  thing  it  is. 

Every  year  the  Association  here  celebrates  its  anni 
versary,  with  many  true,  pleasant,  and  often  brilliant, 
words,  both  of  eloquence  and  poetry.  But  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  grandest  gathering  the  old  hill  ever 
saw,  was  when,  after  the  laying  of  the  first  Atlantic 
cable,  the  people  of  Berkshire  assembled  by  thou- 
sands to  welcome  Cyrus  W.  Field  back  in  triumph 
to  his  native  town,  and  the  home  of  his  leisure. 
That  looked  to  me  like  a  triumph  worth  having; 
and  I  still  seem  to  hear  the  massive  sentences  — 
amid  whose  rugged  strength,  poetic  beauty  bloomed 
like  Alpine  roses  —with  which  the  venerable  Presi- 
dent Hopkins,  Mr.  Field's  fellow-townsman  by  birth, 
congratulated  him  upon  an  achievement  which  he 
classed,  in  character  and  magnitude,  with  that  of 
"  the  world  seeking  Genoese."^ 


806  TAGHCONIC. 

The  stranger  who  comes  to  Stockbridge  to  dream 
away  some  slumberous  summer  hours,  and  finds  it 
excellently  well  adapted  to  that  purpose,  may  fancy 
that  he  has  come  into  that  land 

"  In  which  it  seemed  always  afternoon, 
Around  whose  coast  the  languid  air  did  swoon." 

But  the  insight  of  a  little  familiarity  with  the 
place  will  teach  him  better  than  that.  The  repose 
of  Stockbridge  is  the  repose  of  caste,  not  of  lymphatic 
vulgarity.  Its  luxurious  leisure,  so  indolently  but 
refreshingly  enjoyed,  is  for  the  most  part  either  a 
lasting  peace  conquered  in  the  hottest  life-battle,  or 
the  interval  of  needful  rest  between  two  periods  of 
hard  work  —  and  probably  of  hard  knocks  as  well. 
Frequently  it  is  more  even  than  that;  it  is  a  season 
of  quiet  preparation:  the  pause  of  the  lion  before 
the  leap;  nay,  it  is  the  silence  before  the  thunder- 
peal—  they  have  been  forging  thunder-bolts  here, 
from  the  troubled  era  when  Jonathan  Edwards 
hurled  his  lurid  theology  upon  the  world,  down  to 
this  present  peaceful  summer  of  —  whom  and  what, 
you  will  learn  if  you  read  carefully  the  New  York 
dailies  of  next  winter. 

They  have  a  "Laura's  Rest,"  herein  Stockbridge: 
it  is  far  up  a  mountain  steep.  Had  it  been  in  Italy, 
now,  they  would  have  placed  it  in  some  fountain- 
lulled,  luxurious  vale,  into  which  the  languid  maiden 
could  have  lounged  listlessly  to  her  siesta.  But 
Stockbridge  Lauras  must  climb  before  they  rest. 
Is  not  that  the  moral  of  it  ? 

The  repose  of  Stockbridge  is  the  repose  of  caste. 


JONATHAN    EDWARDS.  SO 7 

The  same  air  of  quiet,  well-bred,  refined  enjoyment, 
and  of  modest,  well-bred  pride,  invests  both  the 
place  and  its  people.  Of  the  class  of  cottages  in 
which  it  becomes  cultivated  people  of  moderate 
tastes  to  dwell,  Mr.  Ruskin  says,  that  in  them  "  we 
naturally  look  for  an  elevation  of  character,  a  richness 
of  design  and  form,  which,  while  the  building  is  kept 
a  cottage,  may  yet  give 'it  an  air  of  cottage  aris- 
tocracy." We  might  paraphrase  this  instruction  for 
application  to  the  class  of  villages  to  which  Stock- 
bridge  belongs.  They  must  be  kept  villages :  to  make 
anything  else  of  them  would  be  to  take  away  their 
charms.  But  they  must  retain  also  their  air  of  village 
aristocracy :  a  widely  different  thing  —  be  it  noted  — 
from  the  aristocracy  of  a  village.  This  quiet  dignity 
has  been  well  maintained  in  the  building  up  of  old 
Stockbridge,  both  on  the  plain  and  on  the  hills. 

The  influence  which  gives  tone  to  society  here  is 
th'at  of  the  old  South-Berkshire  Federal  gentry, 
which  has  come  down  in  much  perfection  of  spirit  in 
spite  of  the  constant  influx  of  city  folk.  I  do  not  say 
that  there  have  not  been  vast  changes  in  manners 
and  in  personnel,  as  well  as  in  habits  of  thought, 
since  gentlemen  went  staidly  about  Stockbridge 
street  in  cocked  hats,  knee-breeches  and  silk  stock- 
ings; and  ladies,  who  called  their  hoop-skirts  far- 
thingales, played  "  Washington's  March "  upon 
London-made  Clementi  pianos,  that  sounded  like  a 
modern  music-box.  But  the  spirit  of  the  old  social 
life  and  the  old  breeding  —  together  with  very  much 


308  TAGHCONIC. 

of  the  old  blood  —  still  survives.  Whatever  modi- 
fication it  has  received  has  come  to  it,  not  from  any 
absolutely  extraneous  source,  but  from  those  circles 
of  New  York  society  which  originally  were  chiefly 
made  up  of,  or  took  their  color  from,  men  and  women, 
who  went  to  them  from  Stockbridge,  Great  Barring- 
ton,  Sheffield  and  Lenox :  the  Sedgwicks,  the 
D wights,  the  Fields,  the  Bryants,  the  Dewey s  and 
others  of  like  character.  Stockbridge  society,  as  it 
now  is,  may  have  been  passed,  for  its  refinement, 
through  a  metropolitan  crucible;  but,  if  so,  it  was  at 
least  one  of  its  own-  -making,  and  its  own  firing. 
Undoubtedly  both  Stockbridge  and  Lenox  have  at- 
tractions peculiar  to  themselves,  in  their  locations 
and  scenery:  but  quite  as  certainly  the  great  mass 
of  the  hundreds  who  resort  to  them. every  summer 
are  governed  in  their  preference  by  social  considera- 
tions. In  the  case  of  Stockbridge,  there  is  super- 
added in  many  instances  the  love  and  pride  of  suc- 
cessful descendants  of  the  old  village  families,  who 
return  to  the  home  of  their  fathers,  to  enjoy  and 
adorn  it ;  while  acquaintanceship,  and  kindred  tastes, 
draw  after  them  many  to  whom  life  here  may  prove 
as  familiar  as  the  landscape  is  strange. 

And  this  brings  me  back  to  another  historic  spot 
on  historic  old  Stockbridge  street:  the  mansion  in 
which  was  born,  and  where  lived  and  wrote,  one 
whose  pen  has  done  more  to  render  Berkshire  soil 
storied  and  classic  ground  than  even  Bryant's;  and 
the  charm  of  whose  presence  has  drawn  here  more 
men   and  women   of   ^"are  mind   and  character  than 


CATHEEINE    SEDGWICK.  309 

have   come    under    any    other   personal    influence: 
Catherine  Maria  Sedgwick. 

Miss  Sedgwick  was  born  here  in  1786.  Her 
father,  Theodore  Sedgwick,  served  with  credit  in 
the  Revolutionary  war,  and  won  the  warm  friend- 
ship of  Gen.  Schuyler  with  whom  he  had  many- 
points  in  common.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  Federal 
party  in  Western  Massachusetts,  which  made  him 
the  first  representative  in  Congress  from  Berkshire, 
the  first  United  States  Senator  from  Western  Massa- 
chusetts, and  a  Judge  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
Commonwealth,  in  which  office  he  died  while  attend- 
ing court  at  Boston  in  1813.  He  was  a  man  of 
much  self-assertion;  and  in  that  queer  piece  of 
portraiture,  "  The  Mirror  of  the  Berkshire  Bar  in 
1799,"  is  dashed  off  as  "Duke  Ego  the  Bully." 
In  the  "  Shays  Rebellion  "  he  was  a  leader  against 
the  insurgents  who  handled  him  roughly  and 
pillaged  his  house.  He  had  an  intense  dread  of 
popular  rule,  and  held  that  a  Jeffersonian  Democrat 
was  of  necessity  an  enemy  of  the  country.  He  con- 
ceived that  there  was  a  great  gulf  between  him  and 
the  people ;  yet,  in  such  personal  relations  as  he  had 
with  them,  he  was  benignant  and  kind.  His  family 
affections  were  of  the  warmest  and  most  tender  con- 
ceivable :  a  peculiarity  which  was  inherited  by  all  his- 
children,  and  especially  by  Catherine.  All  his  sons 
nevertheless  became  Democrats,  although  of  the 
anti-slavery  type.  His  abilities  as  a  statesman, 
although  the  admiration  of  his  household  and  his 
party,  do  not  appear  to  have  been   more  than  re 


810  TAGHCONIC. 

spectable,  and  were  exceeded  by  those  of  at  least 
one  of  his  sons  —  the  second  Theodore  —  who,  if  he 
did  not,  as  is  probable,  first  conceive  the  idea  of  a 
railroad  across  the  forbidding  hills  of  Berkshire,  was 
at  least  its  ablest  early  advocate. 

Miss  Sedgwick's  mother  was  a  daughter  ef  Briga- 
dier General  Joseph  Dwight,  who  won  distinction 
as  commander  of  the  artillery  at  the  siege  of  Louis- 
burg,  and  afterwards  settled  at  Stockbridge,  as  the 
trustee  of  the  Mission  School.  When  the  county  of 
Berkshire  was  established  in  1761,  he  became  its 
first  chief  justice  of  the  Common  Pleas,  and  was 
thus  the  head  of  the  provincial  magistracy  as  well  as 
the  military  ofiicer  of  the  highest  rank  in  Western 
Massachusetts;  so  that,  when  his  daughter  married 
young  Esquire  Sedgwick,  she  was  her  husband's 
superior  in  social  rank,  as  well  by  these  considera- 
tions as  perhaps  by  family  connection  otherwise; 
just  as  Miss  Abigail  Smith  as  bride  outranked  the 
young  lawyer,  John  Adams,  as  bridegroom.  Lawyers 
did  not  stand  very  high  per  se  in  the  social  scale  of 
Provincial  times.     It  required  ofiice  to  lift  them. 

The  Sedgwick  family  was  harmonious  and  united, 
and  the  strong  ties  of  affection  and  esteem  between 
its  members  were  among  the  chief  influences  in  form- 
ing Catherine's  character,  and  shaping  her  life. 
Many  of  her  intense  likings  and  antipathies  —  not 
to  say  loves  and  hatreds  —  were  based  upon  the  rela- 
tions of  men  and  things  to  her  brothers  or  sisters: 
although  it  is  true  that  her  fine  capacity  for  righteous 
india-natioii,   ar.d    a   happy  faculty  for   appreciating 


CATHERINE    SEDGWICK.  311 

the  noble  in  character  and  intellect,  and  the  right  in 
morals,  generally  prevailed  in  matters  of  high  con- 
sideration. And  if  she  exceeded  measure  in  her 
praises  of  what  she  admired,  or  in  her  denunciations 
of  that  which  she  condemned,  that  is  not  without 
precedent  or  apology.  Miss  Sedgwick  was  a  liberal 
of  the  liberals;  and  I  think  you  will  remark,  if 
you  observe  closely,  that,  so  far  as  words  go,  there 
is  no  intolerance  so  unsparing  as  that  of  liberalism, 
in  whatever  department  of  life  or  morals  it  may 
profess  itself. 

I  do  not,  however,  purpose  to  discuss  Miss  Sedg- 
wick's life  or  character  at  large.  All  this  is  merely 
passim :  being  suggested  by  hearing,  the  other  day, 
that  "  they  are  getting  tired  of  Sedgwick-worship  at 
Stockbridge  " —  which  I  apprehend  can  be  true  only 
as  to  a  limited  circle:  and  as  to  that,  I  trust,  only 
refers  to  disgust  with  over-weaning  and  exclusive 
consideration,  and  not  to  the  withholding  of  high, 
grateful  and  perpetual  regard  from  one  to  whom  it 
is  grandly  due  from  all  Berkshire:  one  to  whom,  at 
the  great  Berkshire  Jubilee,  there  was  aptly  applied 
thd  scriptural  commendation :  "  Many  daughters 
have  done  virtuously;  but  thou  excellest  them  all !  " 

Catherine  Sedgwick  was  a  thoroughly  Berkshire 
woman.  Her  many  virtues,  her  few  foibles,  were 
all  of  an  intensely  Berkshire  type;  although  their 
manifestation  was  sometimes  in  novel  directions;  as 
when  she  revolted  against  Calvinism  with  the  same 
boldness  and  vigor  which  her  Calviuistic  ancestry 
exhibited  m  their  revolt  against  popery.     She  loved 


312  TAGHOONIC. 

the  monntain  county  with  all  her  heart  —  loved  its 
soil,  its  scenery,  its  people;  and  sought  its  welfare 
untiringly.  What  she  has  done  for  its  fame,  all  the 
world  knows;  but  what  she  did  to  make  it  better 
worthy  of  fame  is  not  so  often  told.  Yet  the  good 
she  effected  in  mollifying  the  harsher  characteristics 
of  its  people,  in  softening  the  asperities  of  their  lives 
and  opinions,  in  doing  away  uncouthness  of  manner, 
in  implanting  or  extending  esthetic  tastes,  and  in 
similar  gentle  missions,  is  beyond  estimate. 

She  resented  bitterly  the  coarse  exaggerations  of 
Mrs.  Trollope,  and  the  impertinent  criticisms  of 
Basil  Hall  regarding  Berkshire  and  American  life; 
but  she  knew  precisely  to  what  extent  they  were 
founded  in  fact,  and  she  did  what  her  pen  could  to 
remove  that  foundation.  And  her  success  was  great: 
one  instance  may  illustrate  it.  Mrs.  Trollope  de- 
clared that  all  the  bigotry  in  America  was  concen- 
trated upon  the  Berkshire  Hills.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  she  found  a  great  deal  of  it  here.  But 
there  is  as  little  doubt  that  it  was  reasonably  miti- 
gated when  Dr.  Channing,  the  great  apostle  of 
Unitarian  ism  in  America,  was  able  in  1842  to  de- 
liver his  last  public  discourse  in  the  Othodox  Con- 
gregational church  at  Lenox,  and  when  an  eloquent 
eulogium  upon  his  life  and  character,  written  by  Miss 
Sedgwick,  was  received  with  profound  feeling  and 
universal  approval  by  the  great  throng  of  Berkshire 
people  at  the  Jubilee  of  1844.  Another  incident  of 
the  same  occasion  shows  how  the  clouds  of  bigotry 
were    at    that   very   time  lifting  from    these  hills. 


CATHERINE    SEDGWICK.  313 

Macready,  the  tragedian,  recited,  at  the  table, 
Leigh  Hunt's  well  known  poem,  "Abou  Ben 
Adhem,"  to  express  his  reciprocity  of  the  feeling 
which  invited  him,  an  Englishman,  to  participation 
in  this  peculiarly  local  festival.  And  the  committee, 
of  which  orthodox  Dr.  Todd  of  Pittsfield  was  chair- 
man, did  not  hesitate  to  insert  it  in  the  printed 
record  of  the  occasion,  in  spite  of  numerous  protests 
against  so  doing  on  the  ground  that  the  poem 
placed  love  of  man  before  love  of  God.  A  good 
illustration,  that,  both  of  what  had  been,  and  what 
was  passing  away.  And  in  causing  it  to  pass  away, 
Miss  Sedgwick's  writings  had  a  large  share. 

So,  in  other  directions,  was  her  influence  greatly 
felt  in  making  the  life  of  Berkshire  more  genial,  as 
well  as  in  developing  the  spirit  of  its  natural  beau- 
ties. The  local  popularity  of  her  writings  inspired  a 
more  general  taste  for  elegant  literature,  and  asso- 
ciated it  with  what  every  day  met  the  eye  and  the 
ear.  At  a  later  period  came  her  more  direct  teach- 
ings of  the  good  and  beautiful  in  what  are  termed  the 
practical  virtues.  But  in  the  interval  she  cultivated, 
for  her  people,  by  precept,  by  illustration,  by  con- 
spicuous example  —  by  indirect  as  well  as  by  direct 
induction  —  a  love  for  all  that  is  graceful  in  life. 

The  home  of  such  a  woman  is  a  spot  to  attract 
the  feet  of  all  who  love  what  she  loved  and  taught 
so  well.  It  stands  —  a  plain,  square,  brown,  old 
fashioned  mansion  — "  somewhat  back  from  the 
village  street,"  in  the  center  of  broad,  level,  elm- 


314  TAGHCONIC. 

shaded  grounds.  An  old  green-house  —  the  first,  I 
believr,  in  Berkshire — is  seen  in  the  court  yard; 
and  reminds  us  that,  among  Miss  Sedgwick's  mani- 
fold services  to  this  region,  was  the  introduction  of 
new  varieties  of  flowering  plants  and  stimulating 
the  taste  for  floriculture  in  many  ways.  Some  of 
the  flowers  and  shrubs  planted  by  the  hand  which 
wrote  Hope  Leslie  were  growing  rank,  and  seem- 
ingly wild,  in  the  old  garden  in  the  rear  of  the 
homestead,  when  I,  with  u  field-meeting  party,  last 
visited  it. 

Behind  the  mansion,  with  a  broad  strip  of  rich 
meaaow  between,  winds  the  blue  Housatonic  —  at 
this  point  some  six  rods  wide.  If  you  cast  your 
eye  westward,  up  the  river,  as  you  pass  it  on  the 
Housatonic  railroad,  you  will  get  a  full  view  of  the 
old  place,  and,  if  it  be  in  summer,  in  one  of  its 
pleasantest  aspects. 

Here  Miss  Sedgwick  passed  her  youth  and  the 
summers  of  her  early  womanhood;  and  under  that 
roof  were  written  Hope  Leslie  and  her  other  tales  of 
peculiarly  local  interest.  By  and  bye  we  will  follow 
her  to  Lenox.  But  first  we  will  visit  two  or  three 
of  the  spots  to  which  she  gave  name  and  fame.    . 

With  the  exception  of  Monument  Mountain  there 
is  no  locality  in  the  vicinity  of  Stockbridge  so  widely 
known  as 

Icy  Glen. 

I  had  long  impatiently  anticipated  a  visit  to  this 
celebrated  ravine,  before  I  was  able  to  gratify  my 


ICY    GLEN.  315 

longing:  and  now  that  I  have  repeated  my  explora- 
tion more  than  once,  I  almost  as  impatiently  wait 
for  the  next.  It  is  a  deep,  narrow  gorge  cleft 
in  what  is  known  as  Little  Mountain,  a  considerable 
hill  a  little  south  of  the  river,  whose  meadow-banks 
here  intervene  between  it  and  Laurel  Hill.  The 
roughly-wooded  sides  of  the  glen  descend  abruptly 
to  the  base  of  the  mountain,   which   it   completely 

penetrates  from  south  to  north.     The  bottom an 

eiglith  of  a  mile  long  —  is  everywhere  thickly  cum- 
bered by  enormous  boulders  and  the  great  trunks  of 
fallen  trees;  all  mossy  and  slippery,  all  piled  in  huge 
and  wild  confusion,  so  as  to  leave  great  cavernous 
recesses,  and  an  often  impeded  passage  for  a  brawling 
brook. 

The  air  is  dank,  the  shade  gloomy  and  the  clam- 
bering arduous;  so  that,  while  attractive  to  the  point 
of  fascination  for  an  occasional  visit,  the  gorge  is 
not  a  place  to  invite  loitering.  But  when  —  after 
tumbling  and  stumbling,  climbing  and  sliding,  over 
and  under,  and  among,  these  devil's  playthings  of 
rocks,  for  a  mortal  hour — one  emerges,  just  at  sunset, 
upon  the  mellow  rural  scene  without,  he  is  prepared 
to  welcome  ecstatically  the  smiling  landscape. 

The  glen  sometimes  presents  a  scene  of  grotesquely 
picturesque  delight;  when  some  hundreds  of  people 
with  flaming  torches  and  pealing  music  —  and  many 
of  them  in  fantastic  costumes  —  traverse  the  ravine 
at  night  in  such  broken  procession  as,  over  that 
crazy  pathway,  they  can.  In  that  chasm  of  imper- 
vious shade,  it  matters  little  what  the  moon   and 


316  TAGHOOiaC. 

stars  may  be  doing  on  their  far  away  rounds:  the 
red  glare  of  the  torches  flashes  from  the  rugged 
surface  of  the  rocks  to  the  fair  faces  of  the  ladies  — 
ne\cr  so  fair  as  in  such  fitful  radiance  —  and  if,  in 
the  uncertain  light,  some  light  foot  shall  slip,  the 
litlle  shriek  which  announces  the  disaster,  has  an 
invariable  echo  of  silvery  laughter.  I  remember 
well,  one  night,  when  our  sole  music  was  merry  shouts 
and  ringing  laughter,  how  the  mad  glen  re-echoed 
with  a  thousand  Babelish  discordances,  until  our 
senses  were  almost  dazed  when  we  came  out  into 
the  moonlight  that  rested  upon  the  dewy  meadow 
and  mist-wreathed  river. 

It  was  a  queer  looking  crowd  we  were:  the  gilt 
paper  rent  from  the  cambric-clad  cavaliers  and  their 
glittering  tin  spear-heads  bent  with  frequent  service 
as  climbing  staffs;  the  spangled  fairies  in  still  more 
dismal  plight;  the  phantoms  with  their  ghastly 
robes  in  tatters;  and  all  sorts  of  all  possible  and  im- 
possible characters  in  sore  disorder. 

Yet  each  and  all  could  soothly  swear. 
No  merrier  troop  ere  rarubled  there. 

There  are  four  lakes  in  the  township  of  Stock- 
bridge,  but  at  some  little  distance  from  the  village: 
Mahkeenac,  Averic,  Mohawk  and  Agawam.  All  are 
very  lovely;  but  we  will,  for  the  present,  confine 
ourselves  to  that  which  they  now  call  Mahkeenac, 
on  the  authority  of  an  old  Indian  who  came  back 
from  the  west  some  years  ago  to  insist  that  this  was 
its  Mohegan  name:  meaning  The  Great  Water.     But 


STOCKBKIDGE    BOWL.  317 

as  Mahkeenac  won't  work  into  poetry,  nor  very  well 
into  prose,  and  as  our  Indian  friend  did  not  seem  to 
be  perfect  in  the  grammar  of  his  own  language,  I 
prefer  the  designation  given  by  Miss  Sedgwick; 

The  Stockbridge  Bowl. 

This  lake,  which  lies  on  the  road  between  Lenox 
and  Stockbridge,  one  of  the  most  charming  in  the 
whole  county  —  is  a  mile  and  a  half  long,  and  by 
many  is  thought  to  be  the  most  beautiful  sheet  of 
water  in  Massachusetts.  I  have  intimated  a  mo- 
derate dissent  from  that  opinion;  but  however  it 
may  be  as  to  that,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  is 
the  most  famous.  Celebrated  by  the  loving  pens 
of  Miss  Sedgwick  and  Mrs.  Sigourney,  it  has  long 
had  associations  which  our  northern  lakes  lack. 

And,  later,  another  and  higher  honor,  has  fallen  to 
it:  in  that  on  its  northern  shore,  ISTathaniel  Hawthorne 
lived,  while  he  wrote  the  "  House  of  the  Seven 
Gables,"  and  the  "  Blithedale  Romance."  His  home 
was  a  little  red,  scantily  furnished  cottage,  loaned 
him  by  an  admirer.  Notwithstanding  the  success 
of  the  Scarlet  Letter,  his  pecuniary  means  were  still 
slender;  but  I  suspect  that  the  years  passed  here 
were  among  the  happiest  of  his  life.  I  am  told  that 
he  honored  the  mountain  and  the  lake  with  far  more 
of  his  attention  than  he  bestowed  upon  his  other 
neighbors.  Herman  Melville,  at  Pittsfield,  Mr.  W. 
A.  Tappan  at  Lenox,  and  J.  P.  R.  James,  the  Eng- 
lish novelist,  who  then  resided  at  Stockbridge,  were 
among  his  friends;  but,  for  the  most  part,  he  lived 


818  TAGHCONIC. 

in  great  seclusion.  One  is  not  much  surprised  to 
learn  that  the  creator  of  Hester  Prynne,  and  Little 
Pearl,  Zenobia  and  the  Pynchons,  did  not  find  his 
highest  pleasure  in  the  chit-chat  of  fashionable  circles, 
or  even  in  literary  coteries.  Nor  need  it  surprise  us 
that  a  touch  of  melancholy,  or  even  at  times  seem- 
ing moroseness,  tinged  his  manner.  The  knowledge 
of  the  soul's  anatomist  is  that  which  "  by  suffering 
entereth  in." 

But  that  Mr.  Hawthorne's  heart  was  warm  and 
tender,  I  am  well  assured  by  more  than  one  circum- 
stance, w^hich  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  at  liberty  to 
recall  here.  But  there  can  be  no  wrong  in  men- 
tioning the  origin,  as  I  have  heard  it,  of  the  brotherly 
friendship  which  existed  between  him  and  Herman 
Melville.  As  the  story  was  told  to  me,  Mr.  Haw- 
thorne was  aware  that  Melville  was  the  author  of  a 
very  appreciative  review  of  the  Scarlet  Letter,  which 
appeared  in  the  Literary  World,  edited  by  their 
common  friends,  the  Duyckincks;  but  this  very 
knowledge,  perhaps,  kept  two  very  sensitive  men 
shy  of  each  other,  although  thrown  into  company. 
But  one  day  it  chanced  that  when  they  were  out  on 
a  pic-nic  excursion,  the  two  were  compelled  by  a 
thunder-shower  to  take  shelter  in  a  narrow  recess  of 
the  rocks  of  Monument  Mountain.  Two  hours  of 
this  enforced  intercourse  settled  the  matter.  They 
learned  so  much  of  each  other's  character,  and  found 
that  they  held  so  much  of  thought,  feeling  and 
opinion  in  common,  that  the  most  intimate  friendship 
for  the  future  was  inevitable. 


STOCKBRIDGE    BOWL.  319 

I  have  heard  of  another  odd  interview  with  Haw- 
thorne. A  lady  from  a  distant  state  had  expressed 
an  intense  desire  to  meet  the  great  author,  and.it 
was  arranged  that  her  wish  should  be  gratified  at  a 
Pittsfield  dinner  table;  she  not  at  all  anticipating 
that  he  would  know  her  feeling.  But  it  seems  that 
some  friend,  with  a  turn  for  teasing,  apprised  him 
of  it;  and  as  they  were  sitting  down  at  the  board 
opposite  to  each  other,  an  expressive  glance  from 
the  tell-tale  made  known  to  the  lady  that  her  secret 
had  been  exposed.  The  result  was  that  two  pairs 
of  remarkably  fine  eyes  were  very  unquiet  and  that 
tTvo  uneasy  people  had  their  dinners  spoiled.  But 
I  dare  say  that  the  appearance  of  the  wine  restored 
ease. 

They  are  beginning  to  appreciate  the  honor  con- 
ferred upon  the  county  by  Mr.  Hawthorne's  residence 
in  it;  and  now  have  treasured  up  in  the  historical 
museum  of  the*  Athenaeum  at  Pittsfield,  the  desk 
upon  which  he  wrote  the  House  of  the  Seven  Gables, 
The  Blithedale  Romance,  and  probably  other  works. 
It  is  a  plain,  solid,  handsome  piece  of  mahagony 
furniture,  with  an  abundance  of  drawers,  and  seems 
exceedingly  well  adapted  to  novelist's  work.  It  has 
a  host  of  visitors. 

But  we  have  been  drawn  far  away  from  Stock- 
bridge  and  its  lakes.  Let  us  return,  and  sing  in  the 
praise  of  Mahkeenac,  if  you  still  insist  upon  calling 
it  by  the  name  which  appears  upon  the  map,  the 
verses  composed  in  its  honor  by  Mrs.  Lydia  H 
Sigourney,  and  read  at  the  Berkshire  Jubilee: 


820  taghco^tic. 

Thb  Stockbridgb  Bowl. 

The  Stockbridge  Bowl !     Ha8t  ever  seen 

How  sweetly  pure  and  bright, 
Its  foot  of  stone  and  rim  of  green 

Attract  the  traveller's  sight  ? 
High  set  among  the  breezy  hills 

Where  spotless  marble  glows, 
It  takes  the  tribute  of  the  rills 

Distilled  from  mountain  snows. 

You've  seen,  perchance,  the  classic  vase 

At  Adrian's  villa  found, 
The  grape-vines  that  its  handles  chase 

And  twine  its  rim  around. 
But  thousands  such  as  that  which  boastB 

The  Roman's  name  to  keep, 
Might  in  this  Stockbridge  bowl  be  lost 

Like  pebbles  in  the  deep. 

It  yields  no  sparkling  draughts  of  fire 

To  mock  the  madden'd  brain,     . 
As  that  which  warmed  Anacreon's  lyre 

Amid  the  Tei  n  plain  — 
But  freely,  with  a  right  good  will 

Imparts  its  fountain  store, 
Whose  heaven  replenished  crystal  still 

Can  wearied  toil  restore. 

The  Indian  hunter  knew  its  power. 

And  oft  its  praises  spoke, 
Long  er;"  the  white  man's  stranger  plow 

These  western  vail  ys  broke. 
The  panting  deer  that,  wild  with  pain, 

From  his  pursuers  stole, 
Inhaled  new  life  to  every  vein 

From  this  same  Stockbridge  bowl. 


STOCK  BKIDGK    ROWL.  321 

And  many  a  son  of  Berkshire  skies, 

Those  men  of  noble  birth. 
Though  now  perchance  their  roof  may  riae 

In  far  or  foreign  earth, 
Shall  on  tliis  well-remembered  vase 

With  thrilling  bosom  gaze. 
And  o'er  its  mirrored  surface  trace 

The  joys  of  earlier  days. 

But  one  that  with  a  spirit  glance 

That  moved  her  country's  heart. 
And  ba  !e  from  dim  oblivious  trance 

Poor  Maga  waska  start, 
Hath  won  a  fame  whose  blossoms  raw 

Shall  fear  no  blighting  sky. 
Whose  lustrous  leaf  be  fresh  and  fair 

When  Stockbridge  Bowl  is  dry. 


xxn. 

MAHAIWE. 

'  Here  I  have  scaped  the  city's  stifling  heat, 
Its  horrid  sounds  and  its  polluted  air ; 

And,  where  the  season's  milder  fervors  beat. 
And  gales,  that  sweep  the  forest-borders,  bear 

The  song  of  bird  and  sound  of  running  stream, 
Am  come  awhile  to  wander  and  to  dream, 

Ay,  tiame  thy  fiercest,  sun !  thou  canst  not  wake. 
In  this  pure  air,  the  plague  that  walks  unseen. 

The  maize-leaf  and  the  maple  bough  but  take, 
From  thy  strong    eats,  a  deeper,  glossier  green. 

The  mountain  wind,  that  faints  not  in  thy  ray. 
Sweeps  the  blue  steams  of  pestilence  away." — 


I  think  I  will  escort  you,  this  brilliant  morning, 
to  a  region  worthy  of  the  golden  est  sunlight  that 
ever  came  from  Heaven's  alchemy  —  down  that 
Washington  Street  of  railroads,  the  tortuous  Housa- 
tonic,  to  Great  Barrington,  the  greatly  beautiful 
early  home  and  foster-mother  of  Bryant's  genius. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  extols  without  measure  the 
scenery  which  borders  the  Housatonic  railroad, 
particularly  between  Bridgeport  and  Lenox  —  being 
careful  to  exclude  from  his  commendation  the  little 


MAHAIWE.  323 

four  miles  above  what  was  his  home.  And  it  is  worthy 
of  ecstatic  admiration.  Still  I  think  it  clearly  sur- 
passed by  that  through  which  the  Boston  and  Albany 
road  passes  between  the  Connecticut  and  Hudson 
rivers;  especially  in  the  magnificent  gorges  between 
Chester  and  Washington.  I  know  of  no  route,  rail 
or  highway,  which  excels  this;  except  possibly  the 
famous  old  Stage  road  over  the  Iloosac  Mountain 
between  Deerfield  and  North  Adams;  the  same 
which  iilled  Henry  Clay  with  such  amazed  delight, 
when  he  passed  over  it  fifty  years  ago  on  his  visit 
to  Berkshire  and  his  friend  Henry  Shaw. 

Between  Pittsfield  and  Westfield,  the  Boston  and 
Albany  Railroad  follows  substantially  the  old  Indian 
trail  —  Unkamet's  Path.  Early  surveyors  and  gov- 
ernment messengers  made  great  use  of  it;  and 
tradition  asserts  that  one  or  tw^o  adventurous  and 
spirited  women  traversed  it.  The  faithful  old  guide, 
from  whom  it  took  its  name,  lived  near  the  railroad 
crossing  of  the  east  branch  of  the  Housatonic  river 
in  Pittsfield,  and  has  left  it  also  attached  to  a  brook 
and  a  meadow  in  that  vicinity,  where  a  street  has 
also  received  the  same  designation. 

But  the  Boston  and  Albany  railroad  will  never 
take  us  to  Great  Barrington.  We  might,  however, 
drive  thither  —  twenty-one  miles  —  through  Lenox 
and  Stockbridge.  If  we  did  so  we  should  find 
scenery  rivalling  that  on  either  of  the  routes  which 
I  have  mentioned,  here  or  elsewhere  It  is  certainly 
richer  in  the  tokens  of  wealth,  as  well  as  in  his- 
torical and  personal  associations.     A  host  of  notable 


324  TAGHcojsrio. 

critics  firmly  hold  that  it  is  easily  first  of  all  in 
Berkshire.  But,  that  we  may  sooner  reach  Great 
Barrington,  where  we  shall  find  natural  beauty  to 
satiety,  we  will  adhere  to  our  purpose  of  going  by 
the  Housatonic  railroad,  which,  for  its  many  ex- 
cellencies, is  a  sort  of  pet,  here. 

We  might,  however,  pause  a  long  while,  on  our 
way,  at  the  fine  town  of  Lee,  the  widely  famed  seat 
of  the  paper  manufacture,  and  also  of  the  great 
quarries  of  white  marble  from  which  the  grand  ex- 
tension of  the  Capitol  at  "Washington  was  built,  as 
well  as  many  other  noted  structures.  The  marble 
of  Berkshire  extends  through  the  whole  length  of 
the  county,  and  some  of  it,  particularly  that  of  Lee, 
Sheflield,  North  Adams,  and  West  Stockbridge,  is  in 
the  highest  repute  as  building-stone.  The  remarka- 
ble dark  blue  compact  limestone  of  Great  Barrington, 
of  which  the  uniquely  beautiful  Athenaeum  at 
Pittsfield  is  built,  is  not  properly  a  marble.  You 
may  see  it  in  place  at  Mount  Petra,  whose  picturesque 
little  rocky  knoll,  near  the  main  street  of  Great 
Barrington,  Dr.  Clarkson  T.  Collins  has  set  apart 
for  the  pleasure  of  the  public.  And  a  nice  place  it 
is  from  which  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  grand  old 
street  and  other  pleasant  prospects.  But  we  are  not 
yet  at  Great  Barrington. 

The  marble  quarries  of  Lee,  interesting  to  every 
intelligent  visitor,  afford  a  most  inviting  field  to  the 
mineralogist,  although,  I  believe,  the  old  deposit  of 
the  much  sought  bladed  tremolite  is  exhausted. 

Fern  Cliff,  which  holds  the  place  in  Lee  which 


MAHAIWE.  325 

Laurel  Hill  does  in  Stockbridge,  is  a  handsome  emi- 
nence near  the  village.  I  passed  a  pleasant  May  morn- 
ing there  once,  and  gathered  a  fine  collection  of  large 
and  rare  mosses.  But  the  pride  of  Lee's  romantic 
scenery  is  Laurel  Lake,  a  much  prized  sheet  of  water, 
nearly  a  mile  long,  which  lies  on  the  border  of 
Lenox,  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Lee  Park,  and  at  the 
head  of  a  precipitous  mountain-stream  thickly 
studded  with  busy  paper-mills.  It  is  proof  of  the  pro- 
fusion of  splendid  scenery  in  Berkshire  that  it  is 
only  through  a  recent  introduction  by  the  late  Rev. 
Dr.  Gale,  that  the  merits  of  this  fine  lake  with  its 
pleasant  surroundings  haxe  obtained  general  re- 
cognition. It  seems  not  likely  now  to  fall  into  ne- 
glect again. 

A  great  deal  of  the  romance  of  reality  might  be 
wrought  out,  not  only  from  the  secluded  haunts  of 
Lee,  but  from  its  peculiar  material  resources  and  in- 
dustries; and  that  without  any  exhaustive  brain- 
work.  But  it  occurs  to  me  at  this  moment  that  we 
are  bound  for  Great  Barrington,  where  we  shall  find 
romance  ready  made,  to  our  hands:  and  so  much  of 
it  that  we  must  confine  ourselves  chiefly  to  that 
which  arises  from  the  life  and  work  there  of  Berk- 
shire's great  poet.  Berkshire's  poet:  for  if  Mr. 
Bryant's  birthplace  was  not  in  the  county  of  Berk- 
shire, it  was  on  the  Berkshire  Hills  —  a  region  whose 
bounds  were  fixed  by  a  wiser  and  mightier  power 
than  that  which  defines  county  lines.  It  was  in  a 
Berkshire  college  that  he  was  educated,  so  far  as  such 

minds  receive  their  education  from  colleges;  and  it 

28 


326  ■  TAGHCONIC. 

was  in  one  of  the  loveliest  of  Berkshire  towns  that 
he  passed  his  choicest  years  —  those  in  which  some 
of  his  best  work  was  done,  and  during  which  his 
fame  became  national,  or  more:  the  culminating 
years  of  "  a  youth  sublime." 

I  have  already  quoted  from  his  own  account  of 
his  introduction  in  1816  —  when  he  removed  to 
Great  Barrington  —  to  that  fair  region  with  which 
his  name  was  forever  to  be  inseparably  connected, 
and  over  which  he  has  thrown  an  imperishable  charm. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  the  scenery  of  Southern 
Berkshire  inspired  Mr.  Bryant  with  that  intense  love 
of  nature  which  informs  the  best  of  his  poems.  That 
had  already  been  awakened  by  the  scenes  among 
which  his  boyhood  was  passed,  and  strengthened  by 
the  majestic  hills  and  romantic  valleys  by  which 
Williams  College  is  surrounded.  These  had  been 
the  nurses  of  his  infant  thought,  and  the  tutors  of 
his  youthful  imagination:  they,  with  Shakespeare, 
Spenser  and  Milton  for  text-books  —  nay,  with 
Homer  and  Virgil  also. 

But  Southern  Berkshire  furnished  the  already 
ripened  poet  of  nature  with  fitting  themes  in  abund- 
ance, and  fitting  accessories  of  tradition  for  his 
faithful  portraiture  of  landscape:  the  Mohegan  at 
the  burial  place  of  his  father;  the  maiden  of  Monu- 
ment Mountain ;  the  murdered  traveller  of  the  lonely- 
glen  between  old  and  West  Stockbridge. 

It  may  be  pleasant,  as  well,  for  youthful  lovers 
who  wander  under  the  noble  elms  which  give  so 
fine  a  charm  to  Great  Barrington  streets,  or  on  the 


MAHAIWE.  327 

willow-shaded  brink  of  the  Housatonic,  the  Green 
river  or  other  of  the  frequent  streams,  to  remember 
that  here  was  the  scene  of  the  poet's  wooing;  that, 
perhaps  under  the  very  branches  which  over-hang 
them,  or  on  the  same  verdant  bank  where  they  sit 
by  the  brook-side,  William  Cullen  Bryant  first  read 
from  the  manuscript,  to  her  who  was  afterwards  his 
bride,  some  of  those  pleasant  poems  they  now  delight 
to  read  together  there.  Does  it  not,  my  young 
friends,  add  to  your  own  joy  in  so  reading  Mr. 
Bryant's  verses,  to  think  that  he  may  have  thus 
read  them  on  this  very  spot  more  than  fifty  years 
ago  ? 

During  Mr.  Bryant's  residence  in  Great  Barring- 
ton —  from  1816  to  1825  —  only  a  small  portion  of 
his  time,  comparatively,  was  given  to  letters.  He 
took  a  creditable  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  town,  of 
which  he  was  clerk  from  1820  to  1825.  In  1818  he 
delivered  the  address  at  the  first  anniversary  of  the 
town  Bible  Society.  He  was  an  ardent  politician 
of  the  Federal  school,  and  in  the  old  files  of  the 
county  newspapers,  we  often  find  his  name  as  secre- 
tary or  committeeman  of  party  meetings.  He  was 
an  active,  learned  and  rather  fiery  young  lawyer, 
with  more  practice  than  usually  fell  to  the  lot  of 
men  of  his  age  at  that  period.  He  might  have  be- 
come distinguished,  could  he  have  overcome  his 
disgust  with  a  profession  in  which  —  in  his  day- 
much  more  than  at  present  —  law  was  not  synony- 
mous with  justice.  Finally  he  struck  upon  an  ex- 
perience which,  if  the  well  supported  tradition  of 


328  TAGHCONIC. 

the  Berkshire  bar  can  be  trusted,  was  so  intolerable 
that  he  relinquished  practice  altogether.  The  case  — 
"  Grotius  Bloss  vs.  Augustus  Tobey  of  Alford  "  is 
recorded  in  the  2d  volume  of  "  Pickering's  Reports." 
Mr.  Bryant  lost  his  case  through  a  mere  technical 
omission  in  his  declaration  which  did  not  in  the 
slightest  obscure  its  meaning.  That  his  client's 
cause  Avas  just,  the  court  admitted  practically;  Chief 
Justice  Parsons  prefacing  the  adverse  decision  by 
remarking:  "It  is  with  great  regret,  and  not  with- 
out much  labor  and  research  to  avoid  this  result, 
that  we  are  obliged  to  arrest  judgment." 

Mr  Bryant's  just  indignation  against  an  adminis- 
tration of  the  law  which  compelled  its  servants  to 
do  acknowledged  wrong  to  those  who  sought  justice 
in  its  highest  state  tribunal  made  him  ready  to 
seek  a  more  congenial  pursuit  at  the  first  opportunity. 
The  famous  first  cattle-show  of  the  Berkshire 
Agricultural  Society  at  Pittsfield  occurred  during 
his  junior  year  in  Williams  College,  and  strongly 
impressed  his  susceptible  youth.  He  continued  the 
warm  friend  of  the  institution,  and  wrote  two  odes 
for  its  anniversaries.  One,  which  was  sung  in  1820, 
is  included  in  his  published  poems,  and  commences 
with  the  lines, 

"  Far  back  in  the  ages 
The  plough  with  wreaths  was  crowned." 

The   second,  sung   in  1823,  seems  equally  worthy 
of  preservation,  and  is  as  follows: 

Since  last  our  vales  tliese  rites  admir'd, 
Another  year  has  come  and  flown, 


MAHAIWE.  320 

But  where  her  ro.^y  steps  retir'd. 
Has  left  her  gifts  profusely  strown. 

No  killing  frost  on  germ  or  flower, 

To  blast  the  hopes  of  spring,  was  nigh ; 

No  wrath  condens'd  the  ceaseless  shower, 
Or  seal'd  the  fountains  of  the  sky. 

But  kindly  suns  and  gentle  rains, 
And  liberal  dews  and  airs  of  health, 

Rear'd  the  large  harvests  of  the  plains, 

And  nursed  the  meadow's  fragrant  wealth. 

As  if  the  indulgent  power  who  laid, 
On  man  the  great  command  to  toil, 

Well-pleased  to  see  that  law  obeyed. 
Had  touched,  in  love,  the  teeming  soil. 

And  here,  while  autumn  wanders  pale 

Beneath  the  fading  forest  shade. 
Gather *d  from  many  a  height  and  vale. 

The  bounties  of  the  year  are  laid. 

Here  toil,  whom  oft  the  setting  sun 

Has  seen  at  his  protracted  task, 
Demands  the  palm  his  patience  won, 

And  art  has  come  his  wreath  to  ask. 

Well  may  the  hymn  of  victory  flow, 
And  mingle  with  the  voice  of  mirth. 

While  here  are  spread  the  spoils  that  show 
Our  triumphs  o'er  reluctant  earth. 

Of  the  spots  in  Berkshire  to  which  Bryant's  pen 
has  given  fame,  the  most  noted  is  Monument  Moun- 
tain, which  rises  near  the  higliway  between  Great 
Barrington  and  Stockhridge;  being  within  the  for- 
mer towji,  but  considerably  nearer  to  the  village  in 


330  TAGHCONIC. 

the  latter.     No  description  of  it  could  be  more  pre- 
cise than  that  given  in  Bryant's  poem  : 

"  There  is  a  precipice 
That  seems  a  frat/ineut  of  some  mighty  wall, 
Built  by  the  hand  that  fashioned  the  old  world 
To  separate  its  nations,  and  thrown  down 
When  ^he  flood  drowned  them.     To  the  north,  a  path 
Conducts  you  up  the  narrow  battlement. 
Steep  is  the  western  side,  shaggy  and  wild 
With  mossy  trees,  and  pinnacles  of  flint, 
And  many  a  hanging  cr^g.     But,  to  the  east, 
Sheer  to  the  vale,  go  down  the  bare  old  cliffs. — 
Huge  pillars  that  in  middle  heaven  upbear 
Their  weather-beaten  capitals,  here  dark 
With  the  thick  moss  of  centuries,  and  there 
Of  chalky  whiteness  where  the  thunderbolt  hath   splintered 
them." 

The  mountain  has  an  elevation  of  five  hundred  feet 
above  Stockbridge  Plain,  or  twelve  hundred  and 
sixty  above  the  sea  level.  The  cliffs  rise  perhaps 
four  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  perpendicularly  or  a 
little  beetling  at  the  top.  Their  face  is  slightly 
curved  inward  and  their  height  gradually  decreases 
to  the  south.  At  their  foot  immense  piles  of  angular 
flinty  fragments,  which  have  fallen  in  the  course  of 
ages,  are  heaped  up  in  confusion;  and  a  detached 
pinnacle,  known  as  the  Pulpit  Rock,  together  with 
a  few  other  grotesquely  shaped  crags,  relieve  the 
uniformity  of  the  grey  old  wall.  The  pulpit  is  after 
the  tall  old  fashioned  type  which  made  the  attentive 
cono-reo-ation  look  like  a  crowd  at  a  balloon  ascension. 
Cliff  nnd  fragment,  and  isolated  crag  are  all  formed 
of   compact   granular   quartz  —  technically   "  quart- 


MAHAIWE.  331 

zite  " —  the  same  mineral  which,  further  north  when 
disintegrated  by  some  process  known  only  to  nature, 
becomes  the  silicious  sand  of  commerce.  Rumor  of 
this  fact  had  reached  the  glass-makers,  and  I  was 
sent  to  see  what  could  be  made  of  it:  so  that  my 
first  visit  to  this  old  poetic  mountain  was  not  for  the 
most  poetic  of  purposes.  No  matter:  it  is  quite  easy 
to  weave  a  little  sentiment  into  any  excursion  to  a 
place  like  this. 

The  precipice  extends  northward  to  about  the 
middle  of  the  mountain,  where  it  disappears,  al- 
though ^the  hillside  continues  very  abrupt.  The 
geological  character  of  the  rock  also  changes,  if  my 
slight  observations  were  correct,  to  mica-schist.  At 
the  junction  rises  the  path  mentioned  in  the  poem, 
and  by  which  I  reached  the  summit.  In  its  track, 
I  found  some  pretty  crystals  of  black  tourmaline. 
Climbing  this  ascent,  which  is  quite  difficult  enough 
to  give  a  zest  to  it,  I  bent  my  head  dizzily  over  the 
abyss. 

' '  It  is  a  fearful  thing 
To  stand  upon  the  beetling  verge,  and  see 
Where  storm  and  lightning,  from  that  huge  gray  wall. 
Have  tumbled  down  vast  blocks,  and  at  the  base 
Dashed  them  in  fragments  ;  and  to  lay  thine  ear 
Over  the  dizzy  depth,  and  hear  the  sound 
Of  winds,  that  struggle  with  the  woods  below. 
Come  up  like  ocean  murmurs." 

The  summit  commands  a  noble  prospect  : 
"  The  scene 
Is  lovely  round  ;  a  beautiful  river  there 
Wanders  amid  the  fresh  and  fertile  meads. 


332  TAGHCONIO. 

The  paradise  he  made  unto  himself, 

Mining  the  soil  for  ages.     On  each  side 

The  fields  swell  upward  to  the  hills ;  beyond. 

Above  the  hills,  in  the  blue  distance,  rise 

The  miohty  columns  with  which  earth  props  heaven.** 

The  scene  is  fair  to  look  upon,  but  I  confess,  that, 
after  the  mountain  and  its  immediate  surroundings,' 
I  was  most  interested  in  peering  down  to  its  base  at 
a  black  speck,  which  my  guide  assured  me  was  G, 
P.  R.  James,  the  novelist,  who  then  thought  of 
building  a  residence  there,  and  was  at  that  moment 
engaged  in  investigations  as  to  the  probabilities  of 
clarifying  a  muddy  pond.  When  I  used,  in  school- 
time,  to  steal  the  moments  due  to  drier  studies  to 
peruse,  in  the  old  "  National  Reader,"  the  poem  of 
Monument  Mountain,  with 

"  Its  sad  tradition  of  unhappy  love, 
And  sorrows  borne  and  ended  long  ago," 

I  little  dreamed  that  I  should  ever  stand  at  its  base 
in  the  glorious  light  of  a  Berkshire  morning  to  com- 
pute the  marketable  value  of  its  "bare  old  cliifs;" 
and  quite  as  little  that  I  should  look  down  from  its 
summit  upon  the  wizard  —  a  wizard  still,  though 
years  brought  disenchantment  to  me  —  whose  crea- 
tions seemed  to  my  boyhood,  quite  as  marvelous  as 
those  of  Walter  Scott.  Ah,  happy  period  of  child- 
hood's indiscriminating  enjoyment:  what  an  appetite 
I  must  have  had  ! 

The  pile  of  loose  stones  which  led  to  Bryant's 
poem,  and  gave  name  to  the  mountain,  was  destroyed 
in  waiitonuess  or  idle  curiosity  many  years  ago.     I 


MAHAIWE.  .  333 

have  been  told  that  the  pious  contributions  of  visit- 
ors—  who  adopt  the  Indian  custom  of  casting  a 
stone  upon  it  as  they  pass  —  have  restored  it.  I  did 
not  see  it;  for  my  guide,  a  very  literal  person,  in- 
sisted that  there  was  no  monument,  nor  ever  had 
been.  In  fact  the  hard-headed  Yankee  had  very 
little  respect  for  the  romancings  of  Kate  Sedgwick 
and  Cullen  Bryant,  as  he  somewhat  familiarly  de- 
signated two  distinguished  personages. 

Green  River,  which  Mr.  Bryant  seems  to  have 
taken  to  his  heart  with  the  fullness  of  poetic  affec- 
tion, has  its  fountain  among  the  rocky  hills  of  Aus- 
terlitz,  New  York;  passes  through  the  fine  pastoral 
country  of  Alford  and  Egremont,  and  across  the  richer 
agricultural  section   of  Great  Barrington,  until   it 
joins  the  Housatonic  near  the  Sheflleld  border.     It 
was   a  favorite  stream  with  the  Mohegans.      The 
green  tint  from  which  it  takes  its  name  is  communi- 
cated by  a  peculiar  clay  of  which  some  portion  of 
its  banks  is  composed.     Mr.  Bryant  intimates  that 
it  was  the  favorite  haunt  of  his  leisure: 
"  When  breezes  are  soft  and  skies  are  fair, 
I  steal  an  hour  from  study  and  care, 
And  hie  me  away  to   he  woodland  scene, 
Where  wanders  the  stream  with  waters  of  green, 
As  if  the  bright  fringe  of  herbs  on  its  brink 
Had  given  their  stain  to  tlie  wave  they  drink ; 
And  they  whose  meadows  it  murmurs  through 
Have  named  the  stream  from  its  own  fair  hue." 

*  Yet  pure  its  waters  —  its  shallows  are  bright 
With  colored  pebbles  and  sparkles  of  light, 
And  clear  the  depths  where  its  eddies  play. 


334  TAGHCONIC. 

And  dimples  deepen  and  wliirl  away, 

And  the  plane-tree's  speckled  arms  o'er-slioot 

The  swifter  current  that  mines  its  root, 

Through  whose  shifting  leaves,  as  you  walk  the  hill, 

The  quivering  glimmer  of  sun  and  rill 

With  a  sudden  flash  on  the  eye  is  thrown, 

Like  the  ray  that  streams  from  the  diamond  stone. 

Oh,  loveliest  there  the  spring  days  come, 

With  blossoms,  and  birds,  and  wild-bee's  hum; 

The  flowers  of  summer  are  fairest  there, 

And  freshest  the  breath  of  the  summer  air  ; 

And  sweetest  the  golden  autumn  day 

In  silence  and  sunshine  glides  away." 

*'  Yet,  fair  as  thou  art,  thou  shunnest  to  glide, 
B^auL.ial  stream!  by  the  village  side  ; 
But  windest  away  from   haunts  of  men. 
To  quiet  valley  and  shaded  glen  ; 
And  forest,  and  meadow,  and  slope  of  hill. 
Around  thee,  are  lonely,  and  lovely,  and  stilL 
Lonely  —  save  when,  by  thy  rippling  tides, 
From  thicket  to  thicket  the  angler  glides ; 
Or  the  simpler  comes,  with  basket  and  book. 
For  herbs  of  power  on  thy  banks  to  look ; 
Or,  haply,  some  idle  dreamer,  like  me, 
To  wander  and  muse,  and  gaze  on  thee. 
Still  —  save  the  chirp  of  birds  that  feed 
On  the  river-cherry,  and  seedy  reed, 
And  thy  own  wild  music  gushing  out 
With  mellow  murmur  and  fairy  shout, 
From  dawn  to  the  blush  of  another  day, 
like  traveller  singing  along  its  way/' 

There  !  I  positively  will  not  disturb  that  exqmsite 
picture. 

You  will  find  much  of  Mr.  Bryant's  poetry  —  not 
only  of  his  earlier  but  of  his  later  years,  colored  by 


MAHAIWE.  335 

the  scenes  among  which  he  lived  while  a  lawyer  at 
Great  Barrington;  and  one  finds  it  an  interesting 
and  agreeable  study  to  wander  through  those  scenes, 
with  his  volume  in  hand,  and  compare  the  one  with 
the  other.  I  am  sure  you  cannot  but  enjoy  taking 
with  him  "  A  Walk  at  Sunset;  "  deciphering  by  the 
aid  of  book  or  memory,  the  Inscription  at  the  En- 
trance of  a  Wood;  tracing  "  The  Rivulet;  "  gathering 
"  The  Yellow  Violet  "  and  the  Fringed  Gentian,  and 
joining  in  all  his  rural  pleasures. 

In  dwelling  thus  upon  the  scenes  -in  C!-reat  Bar- 
rington which  have  been  illustrated  by  the  genius 
of  Bryant,  I  do  not  mean  to  intimate  that  there  are 
none 'of  merit  which  he  left  unsung.  The  village, 
which  since  his  day  has  grown  to  a  large  and  hand- 
some town,  has  characteristic  charms  beside  those  of 
its  noted  elnis,  in  the  graceful  irregularity  of  its 
streets,  in  some  fine  and  tasteful  buildings,  and  a 
general  mingling  of  the  pleasant  features  of  town 
and  country.  There  are  other  gentle  streams  to 
wander  by,  besides  Green  River,  and  majestc  hills 
besides  Monument  Mountain. 

Great  Barrington  is  also  an  old  historic  town. 
It  was  the  north  parish  of  Sheffield,  the  first  settled 
town  in  the  county,  and  when  incorporated  it  was 
the  first  shire-  town  of  Berkshire.  The  Indian 
mission  was  first  established  here.  Here,  first  in 
Massachusetts,  the  King's  Courts  were  over-thrown 
by  the  people  in  May  1774,  with  such  results  of 
kindling  feeling  that  General  Gage  wrote  home  to 
his  government,  "  A  flame  has  sprung  up  at  the  ex- 


836  TAGHCONIC. 

tremity  of  the  Province  "—  "  The  popular  rage  is 
very  high  in  Berkshire,  and  makes  its  way  rapidly  to 
the  rest."  Here  also  the  greatly  erring  but  also 
greatly  wronged  Shays  rebels  obstructed  the  Courts 
of  Commonwealth;  and. on  the  borders  of  the  town 
they  met  their  final  defeat. 


xxra. 

TOWN,  COLLEGE  AND  SPA . 

Ages  and  climes  remote  to  thee  impart 
What  charms  in  genius  and  refines  in  art ; 
Thee  in  whose  hands  the  keys  of  science  dwell, 
The  pensive  portress  of  her  holy  cell; 
Whose  constant  vigils  chase  the  chilling  damp 
Oblivion  steals  upon  her  vestal  lamp. 

They  iu  their  glorious  course^  the  guides  of  youth. 
Whose  language  breathed  the  eloquence  of  truth; 
Whose  life,  beyond  preceptive  wisdom,  taught 
The  great  in  conduct  and  the  pure  in  thought.  — 

Pleasures  of  Memory, 


My  first  visit  to  Willi  amstown  was  made  in  the 
company  of  Samuel  Bowles.  It  was  in  the  days 
when  Mr.  Bowles  did  some  of  the  best  reporting  for 
his  own  journal  personally;  and  he  was  on  his  way 
to  the  commencement  at  Williams  College,  an  in- 
stitution to  which  he  gave  love  and  honor  such  as 
he  did  not  scatter  wastefully,  and  whose  faculty 
well  appreciated  his  friendship.  I  was  bound  upon 
a  similar  errand,  and  intended  to  go  by  railroad  and 
stage  through  North  Adams,  but  Mr.  Bowles  would 
not  hear  of  that  route;  and  insisted  upon  a  drive  up 

the  valleys  of   Lanesboro'  and    Williamstowii,   and 
29 


338  TAGHCONIC. 

over  the  ridge  of  hills  at  New  Ashford,  which  he 
pronounced  the  most  enjoyable  ride  possible.  I 
was  glad  enough  to  accede  to  the  proposal,  and  we 
started  at  the  early  dawn  of  the  most  delicious  of 
summer  mornings. 

The  drive  was  all  that  had  been  promised  of  it. 
My  companion,  relieved  for  a  time  from  his  ex- 
haustive journalistic  work,  was  in  the  height  of 
life  and  spirits,  and  descanted  upon  the  scenes 
through  which  we  passed  with  all  that  enthusiasm 
and  those  quick  perceptive  powers  which,  in  after 
days,  rendered  his  stories  of  travel  across  the  conti- 
nent so  wonderfully  attractive:  and  perhaps  with 
even  more  abandon^  and  freshness  of  feeling.  He 
seemed  aH  alive  with  the  spirit  of  the  morning. 
Nothing  escaped  his  glance,  from  the  mist-wreaths 
on  the  surface  of  Pontoosuc  lake  and  the  butter- 
flies that  fluttered  about  our  path,  to  the  contours 
of  the  Greylock  group  which  seemed  to  change  inces- 
santly as  we  approached  and  rode  along  its  base. 
After  these  many  years,  I  recall  perfectly  the  kindling 
of  his  fine  eye,  and  the  rich  tone  of  his  voice,  as  he 
pointed  out  one  striking  picture  after  another.  He 
fairly  joyed  in  the  morning  glories  of  the  lake;  but 
reserved  his  most  ecstatic  praises  for  the  lovely 
valley  in  which  lies  the  village  of  South  Williams- 
town. 

By  the  road-side  in  the  north  part  of  Lanesooro'  is 
a  little  grove,  long  familiar  to  myself  and  other  lovers 
of  pic-nic.  The  river  murmurs  gently  through  a 
trreen  and  level  space;  there  are  grey  old  rocks  and 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  339 

mossy  trees;  and,  when  we  passed  it,  a  broken 
table,  a  dismantled  bower,  and  other  relics  of  recent 
revelry,  elicited  from  Mr.  Bowles  quaint  and  genial 
comment  that  showed  his  hearty  sympathy  in  tlie 
simple  pleasures  they  gave  token  of.  Again,  he 
drew  rein  long,  to  admire  the  nice  grouping  of 
bosky  woods  and  single  trees  on  a  sunny  hill-side. 
But  to  tell  of  half  the  pleasant  things  of  that  July 
morning  ride  would  tire  you  in  the  reading,  fleetly 
as  they  passed  in  the  riding. 

Mr.  Bowles's  fondness  for  this  region  was  further 
exemplified  the  next  morning  when,  in  full  view  of 
the  laborious  day  before  us,  he  was  up  at  day- 
break for  a  two  mile  walk  to  the  Sand-Springs  — 
the  present  site  of  Greylock  Hall.  I  have  a  theory 
that,  to  fully  enjoy  sunrise  views,  they  should  not 
be  taken  in  too  quick  succession,  and  I  kept  to  my 
theory  and  my  bed.  But  the  vigorous  early-riser 
came  back  at  breakfast-time  all  aglow  with  such 
descriptive  eloquence  that  to  this  day  I  have  not  for- 
given myself  that  ill-timed  indolence. 

In  some  of  his  despondent  moments  of  discourage- 
ment or  disgust  with  political  affairs  in  those 
years,  Mr.  Bowles  often  spoke  of  relinquishing 
his  interest  in  a  daily  newspaper,  and  retiring  to 
the  charge  of  a  weekly  journal  in  Berkshire. 
Whether  he  ever  seriously  contemplated  so  great 
a  change,  or  it  was  a  mere  passing  fancy,  I  do  not 
know;  but  I  hear  that  he  gave  much  of  his  most 
arduous  and  most  loving  work  to  the  weekly  edition 
of  his  own  paper:  and  he   certainly   had   a   warm 


840  TAGHCONIC. 

liking  for  Berkshire.  Angels  perhaps,  better  than 
men,  may  judge  whether  it  would  have  been  well 
for  him  to  yield  to  that  mood  of  longing  for  a  quiet 
life,  rather  than,  by  the  tremendous  intellectual 
pressure  which  he  finally  chose,  to  condense  the 
alloted  three-score-years-and-ten  of  man's  growth 
and  effort  into  little  more  than  fifty  of  measured 
time.  For  him,  however,  it  may  be  that  no  other 
result  was  possible  than  that  which  came:  no  other 
choice  than  that  he  made. 

The  impression  of  Williamstown  gained  under 
the  pleasant  circumstances  which  attended  my  first 
visit,  was  of  an  old-fashioned,  quiet,  uniquely  beauti- 
ful village.  It  had  at  that  time  little  to  boast  in  the 
way  of  architecture;  but,  I  do  not  know  how  it  is, 
it  seems  to  me  that,  make  your  college  edifices  as 
ugly  as  you  can  —  and  the  old  architects  had  im- 
mense capacities  in  that  direction  —  still,  if  you 
plant  them,  with  reasonable  surroundings  of  fine 
trees  in  a  pretty  New  England  town,  they  soon 
acquire  a  classic  and  tranquil  air  wh^ch  goes  far  to 
mollify  the  exasj)erating  effect  of  brick-red  and 
right-angles  upon  sensitive  nerves.  I  remember 
that  the  tumble-down,  cheap,  old  wooden  chapel  of  a 
certain  salt-water  down-east  college  had  an  awe- 
inspiring  asj^ect  in  my  boyish  eyes,  which  I  fail  to 
find  intensified  by  the  granite  and  gothic  piles  which 
have  supplanted  it:  and  I  have  a  similar  experience 
with  Williamstown  in  its   new  architectural  estate. 

Nevertheless  the  imj^rovements  both  in  town  and 
college,  have  been  made  with  such  unexceptionable 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  341 

good  taste  that  the  result  has  been  a  genuine  growth 
in  beauty,  until  Williamstown  has  come   to   rival 
Stockbridge  as  the  model  village  of  New  England. 
Its  appearance  from  within  is  peculiar  —  unique  so 
far  as  I  have  knowledge  —  which  comes  chiefly  from 
a  singular  and  very  artistic  unity  of  arrangement. 
It  is  in  effect  a  broad  park,  of  perhaps  a  mile  in 
length,  subdivided  into  shapely  plots  and  wide  un- 
fenced  court-yards   of    verdant  turf,    with   shaded 
avenues  between:  and  all  compassed  within  a  rim 
of  college  edifices,  churches,  hotels,  private  dwellings 
and  business   structures;   while,   on   the   moderate 
elevations  to  which  the  ground  rises  towards  the 
western  extremity,  a  church,  two  or  three  college 
buildings,  and  a  soldier's  monument  surmounted  by  a 
statue,  stand  out  in  bold  relief.     There  are  some 
pieces  of  exceedingly  creditable  and  pleasing  —  even 
of   striking  — architecture.      The    scrupulous   care 
with  which  the   village  society,  modelled   on  the 
Laurel  Hill  Association,  keeps  every  thing  in  exact 
order,  as  well  as  the  perfection  of  grass,  flower  and 
foliage  everywhere  maintained,  increase  the  attrac- 
tiveness   of   the   scene.      But    the    characterizing 
element  is  the  unity  and  harmony  of  plan  which 
seems  to  embrace  at  once  town  and  college,  and  to 
have  its  counterpart  in  the  life  of  those  who  dwell 
in  that  charmed  circle. 

Outside  of  itself,  Williamstown  has  another  pecu- 
liarity of  landscape,  as  a  college  town,  in  the  near 
neighborhood  of  Greylock^and  other  mighty  hills. 
Our  down-east  friends  will   have  their  badinage  at 


342  TAGHCONIC. 

"Fresh-water  colleges."  But  what  to  the  student  is 
the  ocean,  whose  ordinary  acquaintance  he  makes 
through  the  fragrant  medium  of  the  Back-Bay  — 
his  more  familiar  intercourse  being  confined  to  sea 
sickness  on  brief  holiday  excursions  —  what,  for  a 
neighbor  to  the  languid  student,  is  this  moody  old 
sea,  oftenest  making  his  august  presence  known  by 
the  heralding  of  east  winds  and  slimy  odors,  com- 
pared with  the  mighty  mountain  shapes,  which  greet 
his  eye  with  every  rising  sun,  and  send  him  health 
and  vigor  in  every  breeze. 

Thoreau  recognized  the  strength  of  the  hills; 
writing,  thus,  from  the  top  of  the  tower  which  once 
capped  Greylock,  but  was  accidentally  burned: 

**  This  observatory  is  a  building  of  considerable  size,  erected 
by  the  students  of  Williams  College,  whose  buildings  may  be 
seen  by  day-light,  gleaming  far  down  the  valley.  It  would 
really  be  no  small  advantage,  if  every  college  were  thus  located 
at  the  base  of  a  mountain  ;  as  good  at  least  as  one  well-en- 
dowed professorship.  It  were  as  well  to  be  educated  in  the 
shadow  of  a  mountain  as  in  more  classic  shades.  Some  will 
remember  no  doubt,  not  only  that  they  went  to  the  college, 
but  that  they  went  to  the  mountain.  Every  visit  to  its  summit 
would,  as  it  were,  generalize  the  particular  information  gained 
below,  and  subject  it  to  more  catholic  tests." 

In  the  Hoosac  Valley  —  of  which  the  Williams- 
town  is  an  expansion  —  the  mountains  assume  a  very 
different  expression  from  that  which  they  wear  in 
the  central  portions  of  the  great  Berkshire  basin: 
they  make  one  feel  that  they  are  mountains,  and 
not  —  as  at  Pittsfield,  for  instance  —  mere  graceful 
lines  in  the  landscape.     Everywhere  in  this  region 


WILLI  AMSTOWX.  343 

one  gets  an  inadequate  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  its 
mountainous  character,  failing  to  realize  that  in 
Lanesboro'  and  Pittsfield,  he  stands  upon  the  summit 
of  a  solid' mass  eleven  hundred  feet  high,  whose  base 
extends  from  the  sound  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  from 
the  Connecticut  to  the  Hudson:  so  that  nearly  one- 
half  the  real  altitude  is  lost  before  the  base  of  the 
mountains  as  here  visible  is  reached.  The  apparent 
height  of  the  mountains,  as  seen  from  Central  Berk- 
shire, is  further  diminished  by  another  circumstance. 
The  ranges  upon  the  east  and  west  are  continuous 
ridges,  cleft  here  and  there  into  domes  and  peaks, 
with  indentations  between,  comparatively  so  slight 
as  to  leave  the  crest  not  serrated,  but  in  wavy  or 
scalloped  relief  against  the  sky. 

The  valleys  which  separate  the  different  hills  are 
for  the  most  part,  properly,  only  what  are  known  in 
English  and  Scotch  landscape,  as  "Hopes:"  that  is 
valleys  open  only  at  one  end.  They  give  the  hills 
grace  rather  than  grandeur.  If  the  Hoosac  and 
Taconic  ranges  were  sharply  divided  to  their  bases 
by  distinct  transverse  valleys,  they  would  convey 
an  impression  of  vastly  greater  magnitude  than  they 
now  do,  although  in  reality  it  would  be  less. 

These  weakening  influences  do  not  exist  to  the 
same  extent  in  the  more  northern  valley.  There 
the  mountains  press  closer  upon  the  villages;  the 
surface  of  the  great  swell  of  land  which  underlies 
them  is  four  hundred  feet  lower  than  its  maximum; 
and  the  contours  of  the  mountains  are  more  sharp  and 
distinct.     The  result  is   a  great   gain  in  grandeur, 


344  TAGHCONIC. 

whatever  may  be  lost  in  other  regards.  The  land- 
scape is  more  imposing;  you  feel  the  might  of  Grey- 
lock,  and  the  magnitude  of  the  neighboring  summits, 
here  at  Williamstown,  at  Adams  and  North  Adams, 
as  you  do  not  feel  them  in  the  more  open  valley  at  the 
south. 

Notwithstanding  the  distance  which  separates 
them,  Williamstown  seems  specially  affiliated  with 
Stockbridge,  of  the  towns  in  the  county,  by  social 
influences  which  date  very  far  back.  Colonel  Eph- 
raim  Williams,  the  founder  of  the  college,  was 
the  son  of  Col.  Ephraim  Williams,  one  of  the  four 
farmers  sent  to  Stockbridge  to  aid  in  civilizing  the 
Indians;  and  was  himself  for  a  time  a  resident  there. 
Some  of  the  most  distinguished  early  trustees  lived 
in  the  same  town.  The  long-time  President  —  the 
massive  minded  Mark  Hopkins  —  was  born  in  Stock- 
bridge;  and  so  was  his  gentle  brother.  Professor 
Albert  Hopkins  —  a  gentle  spirit  his,  however  ob- 
scured to  any  by  severity  of  aspect  and  manner  —  to 
whose  fine  tastes  and  elegant  scholarship  the 
college  owes  as  much  in  one  direction  as  it  does 
to  the  sterner  qualities  of  the  great  President  in 
another.  Nathan  Jackson,  John  Z.  Goodrich,  David 
Dudley  and  Cyrus  W.  Field,  and  other  of  the  late 
liberal  benefactors  and  zealous  friends  of  the  college 
»were  Stockbridge  men,  although  Mr.  Jackson  was  a 
native  of  Tyringham,  and  Mr.  Goodrich  of  Rich- 
mond. 

Through  these  and  other  causes,  the  influence  of 
th'j  older,  upon  the  younger  town  —  perhaps  I  should 


WILLIAMSTOWN.  346 

say  their  reciprocal  influence — has  been  powerful. 
Indeed  I  am  not  sure  but  that,  if  the  spirits  of 
Parsons  West  and  Field  should  come  back  to  Berk- 
shire for  a  summer  visit  they  would  find  themselves 
quite  as  much  at  home  in  Williamstown  as  on  Stock- 
bridge  street.  At  all  events  the  sort  of  people  most 
attracted  to  the  college  town  for  rest  and  recreation, 
are  grand  and  reverend  seigniors  of  the  old  Stock- 
bridge  gentry-class,  who  can  make  merry  on  moun- 
tain excursions  with  college  professors,  or  lend  their 
aid,  if  need  be,  in  the  village  Sunday  school  and 
weekly  conference  meetings.  There  are  among 
them,  I  doubt  not,  gentlemen  who  find  a  real  luxury 
in  being  wakened  by  the  college  bell  to  the  con- 
ciousness  that  they  are  no  longer  subject  to  its 
brazen  summons;  some  of  them  having  the  added 
delight  that  their  sons  are  still  hond-knechts  of 
learning:  which  does  not  mean,  young  gentlemen, 
that  there  is  anything  as  yet  especially  knightly 
about  you  —  although  there  may  be  —  but  that,  for 
four  years,  you  are  the  bound  servants  of  a  noble 
mistress,  of  whom  you  may,  when  freed  by  your 
baccalaureate,  become,  if  you  will,  gallant  and  de- 
voted followers  —  and  who,  whether  you  will  it  or 
not,  will  not  wholly  forsake  you  to  your  life's  end, 
nor,  as  I  reverently  believe,  even  then. 

The  grave  and  reverend  seigniors,  permanently 
or  transiently  resident  here,  give  tone  to  Williams- 
town  life  the  year  round.  To  be  sure,  their  sons 
and  daughters  are  not,  as  a  rule,  so  grave  and  re- 
verend:  but  if  you  meet  Ralph  Royster  Bolster  and 


346  TAGHCONIC. 

Miss  Flora  McFlimsey  sauntering  up  the  street  — 
she  dangling  her  parasol  and  giving  back  the  saucy 
sun,  glances  as  good  as  he  sends;  he  twirling  his 
tortoise  shell  cane  and  sheltering  the  delicate  blos- 
soms of  his  complexion  with  a  blue  veil  —  you  may 
set  these  interesting  young  persons  down  in  your 
note  book  as,  for  certain,  erratics  from  some  other 
summer  social  sphere. 

Thus  much,  of  the  old  college  town.  The  scene 
changes  two  miles  to  the  north;  where  a  fashionable 
watering  place  has  within  a  few  years  started  up 
around  some  mineral  springs  which  have  long  had 
local  repute.  The  analysis  of  the  waters  gives  a 
result  similar  to  that  of  Lebanon  Springs;  but  some 
old  farmers  of  the  neighborhood,  who  were  kind 
enough  to  be  my  guides,  on  a  visit  "  out  of  season," 
told  wonderful  stories  of  old-time  cures  of  rheuma- 
tism and  cutaneous  disorders;  which  would  indicate 
a  resemblance  to  the  Missisquoi  Springs  on  the 
shore  of  Lake  Champlain.  To  be  candid,  however, 
whatever  may  be  the  virtues  of  the  waters,  the 
people  who  come  here  do  not  look  as  if  they  had 
anything  to  be  cured  which  would  not  be  speedily 
remedied  by  mountain  air  and  free  exercise  in  the 
old  balsamy  woods;  and  I  apprehend  that  health- 
seeking  is  a  thin  excuse  for  enjoying  a  few  weeks  in 
a  delightful  and  picturesque  spot,  and  with  pleasant 
associates:  an  apology  for  that  which  needs  none. 

Greylock  Hall,  the  hostelry  of  this  novel  watering 
place,  stands  on  an  elevation  well  wp  to  the  base  of 
the  Vennont  border-mountains,  whose  forest-covered 


WILLI  AMSTOWX.  347 

sides  furnish  a  strong  back-ground  for  the  large, 
showy  building,  while  a  soft  foreground  is  supplied 
by  the  groves,  gardens,  bowers  and  fountains  of  the 
Hall;  a  roomy  park,  carved,  as  it  wer§,  out  of  the 
forest  primeval,  and  converted  to  culture  by  some 
eccentric  magician.  The  world  of  fashion,  delight- 
ing in  sensational  contrasts,  has  here  retreated 
towards  the  rudest  recesses  of  the  mountains,  as  far 
as  it  well  could  without  absolutely  making  its 
abode  in  them.  Greylock  Hall  is  a  slice  of  metro- 
politan life  and  luxury  taken  up  —  students  of  the 
"  Arabian  Nights  "  know  how  —  and  dropped  right 
down  in  the  wilderness. 

Behind,  stretch  wild  and  scraggy  mountains  with 
a  highly  inviting  look  of  native  savagery,  "not  a  little 
suggestive  of  bears  and  catamounts,  although  I 
believe  the  sportsman  must  be  content  finally  with 
much  less  exciting  game;  and,  before  the  Hall,  lies  a 
rural  country  with  few  farm  houses.  But,  only  two 
miles  away,  one  gets  a  picturesque  glimpse  of  Wil- 
liamstown  spires,  and  he  knows  that,  six  or  seven 
miles  dow^n  yonder  rich  and  busy  valley,  lies  the  great 
town  of  North  Adams.  At  his  elbow  he  hears  the 
click  of  the  telegraph  and  close  at  hand,  the  jar  of 
the  locomotive  with  its  train.  Ah,  that  is  the  charm 
of  it !  The  world  of  fashion,  l^de  itself  in  what 
nook  or  wilderness  it  may,  does  not  willingly  loose 
its  grasp  of  the  telegraph  and  the  railroad,  and  wants 
its  daily  metropolitan  journal  as  regularly  at  Greylock 
Hall  as  at  the  Buckingham  dr  the  Clarendon.  And 
with  all  this  mixture  of  life  and  loneliness,  civiliza- 


348  TAGHCONIC. 

tion  and  savagery,  lore  and  luxury,  freedom  and 
comfort,  social  pleasures  with  a  rural  zest  and  wood- 
land sports  with  a  citizen's  relish  for  them;  with 
all  these,  I  conceive  that  the  liking  that  the  world's 
people  —  to  use  a  Shakerism  —  manifest  for  Grey- 
loek  Hall,  is  abundantly  accounted  for. 


XXIV. 

LENOX  — THE  ONLY  ONE. 

The  waies  through  which  my  weary  steps  I  guide 
In  this  delightful  laud  of  Faery, 
Are  so  exceeding  spacious  and  wyde, 
And  sprinkled  with  such  sweet  variety 
Of  all  that  pleasant  is  to  ear  and  eye. 
That  I,  nigh  ravisht  with  rare  thoughts  delight, 
My  tedious  travell  do  forget  thereby  ; 
And  when  I  gin  to  feele  decay  of  might, 
It  strength  to  me  supplies,  and  chears  my  dulled  spright. 

Faerie  Qusene. 


And  now,  what  of  Lenox?  Of  Lenox,  whose 
name  has  so  long  been  associated  with  so  much  of 
the  grandest  and  most  beautiful  in  Berkshire  scenery, 
the  noblest,  purest  and  most  graceful  in  Berkshire 
life,  the  most  admired  and  most  loved  in  Berkshire 
genius :  which,  not  many  years  ago,  absorbed  almost 
entirely  whatever  attention  an  influential  portion 
of  the  outer  world  had  to  bestow  upon  the  great 
highland  county  of  Massachusetts  —  Stockbridge 
alone  closely  rivalling  it  in  the  eye  of  these  fashion- 
setting  folk. 

Lenox  is  a  puzzle;  and  the  mystery  with  which  it 
challenges  us,  is  the  hidden  spell  that,  irresistibly  as 
30 


35  0  TAGHCONIC. 

it  seems,  yearly  compels  hither  an  ever-increasing 
number  of  men  and  women  of  a  superior  intellect- 
ual—  not  necessarily  literary — caste,  and  of  ex- 
ceptionally pure  and  natural  tastes:  an  annual 
assemblage  whose  social  life  is  governed  by  idiosyn- 
crasies—  perhaps  indefinable  —  that  distinguish  it 
from  every  other  summer-social  circle.  It  is  natural 
enough,  and  for  the  better  enjoyment  of  all,  that 
every  section  of  society,  should  gather  itself  to- 
gether, each  after  its  own  kind,  and  in  its  own  place; 
but  it  is  not  often  that  the  result  is  so  homogeneous 
as  that  which  is,  every  summer,  reproduced  at 
Lenox.  The  characteristics  of  life  there  are  con- 
sequently more  individualized  and  pronounced  than 
in  looser  and  more  temporary  social  organizations : 
some  of  them  indeed  amounting  to  polished  eccen- 
tricity. 

I  wish  it  to  be  understood  that  my  opportunities 
of  observing  this  peculiar  phase  of  society  have 
been,  for  the  most  part  —  in  recent  years  altogether — • 
from  without;  and  I  am  aware  that  the  aspect  of 
social  formations,  like  the  apparent  contours  of  our 
mountains,  vary  strangely  with^the  varying  point 
of  view.  Whether  my  own  stand-point  in  this  case, 
being  a  distant  one,  has  enabled  me  to  borrow  any 
enchantment  for  my  picture,  I  am  not  able  to  say. 
It  was  once  my  privilege,  for  a  single  season  at  a 
certain  theatre,  to  go  nightly  behind  the  scenes  — 
where  I  learned  a  great  deal,  to  be  sure :  but  it  hardly 
fitted  me  to  prepare  a  more  appreciative  morning 
critique  upon  the  presentation  of  the  play. 


LENOX.  361 

I  do  not  however  purpose  the  absurdity  of  at- 
tempting, with  my  plentiful  lack  of  data,  an  analysis 
of  life  at  Lenox;  but  simply,  in  incidental  connec- 
tions, to  hint  at  possible  sources  of  its  more -patent 
peculiarities,  and  some  of  the  elements  in  that 
mysterious  spell  which  the  spot  casts  upon  its  habi- 
tues. But  I  may  speak  from  more  thorough  infor- 
mation of  that  remarkable  natural  scenery  which 
steadily  holds  the  first  place  in  the  love  and  esteem 
of  so  many  constant  beholders,  whose  tastes  have 
been  moulded  or  corrected  by  extended  travel  at 
home  and  abroad:  scenery  whose  charms  seem  to 
me  to  consist  more  in  an  unusual  combination  of 
satisfactory  qualities,  and  freedom  from  blemish, 
than  in  any  specific  splendor  of  landscape  —  however 
striking  instances  of  the  latter  may  here  and  there 
present  themselves. 

I  think  that,  to  obtain  a  better  first  effect,  we 
will  approach  this  scenery  by  a  circuitous  route. 
Immediately  south  of  Pittsfield,  there  rises  a  short, 
but  —  as  seen  from  that  town —  a  conspicuous,  and 
exceedingly  picturesque,  chain  of  mountains.  The 
hastiest  glance  will  show  the  traveller  who  mounts 
to  the  foot-bridge  at  the  Union  Depot,  how  much 
the  landscape  owes  to  the  fine  shaping  of  its  three 
great  hills.  In  this  regard  the  Greylock  group  is 
not  more  worth.  These  hills,  of  which  there  are 
four  visible  from  Pittsfield,  are  a  part  of  the  Lenox 
range,  which,  as  I  told  you  sometime  ago,  is  a 
Bpur  thrown  off  by  the  Taconics  at  Egremont,  It 
terminates  with  Melville  Hill,  which  lies  in  Pittsfield, 


852  TAGHCONIC. 

between  the  new  and  old  roads  to  Lenox,  its  eastern 
slope  being  the  farm  formerly  owned  by  Hermann 
Melville.  At  its  foot,  upon  the  north,  is  the  fine 
old  mansion  —  now  almost  in  its  hundredth  year  — 
whose  hospitable  roof,  under  the  successive  master- 
ship of  Henry  Van  Schaack,  Elkanah  Watson,  Major 
Thomas  Melville,  and  J.  E,.  Morewood,  has  welcomed 
a  long  and  rare  array  of  guests,  from  Alexander 
Hamilton  and  Philip  Schuyler  to  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne and  Hermann  Melville.  The  grounds  of  this 
mansion  enclose  Melville  Lake  —  the  prettiest  little 
lakelet  possible,  with  its  crystal-clear  wave  and  rim  of 
green  woods.  One  for  whom  Berkshire  skies  should 
weep,  used  to  call  it  "  A  Tear  of  Heaven; "  they 
who  love  best  the  pure  white  flowers  on  its  placid 
breast,  speak  of  it  as  "  The  Lilly  Bowl."  There  is, 
upon  its  eastern  shore,  a  cool  and  mossy  path  com- 
pletely overarched  by  spreading,  thick-leaved  boughs: 

"  No  more  sky,  for  overb ranching 
At  your  head  than  at  your  feet." 

Rarely,  through  that  leafy  screen,  the  green  and 
golden  light  streams  down  with  transmuted  gor- 
geousness.  There  is  an  exquisite  wealth  of  color 
in  some  of  those  woodland  tints.  I  can  never  forget 
the  rich  purple  hue  which  a  few  struggling  rays  of 
summer  sunshine  imparted  to  a  little  spot  of  black 
earth  as  I  walked  once  in  this  cool  retreat,  while  it 
was  fierce  noon-tide  without.  The  very  figures 
painted  on  the  mould,  in  that  royal  coloring,  are 
vividly  present  to  me  now,  while  so  much  that  pro- 


LENOX.  353 

mised  to  endure  has  faded  from  existence,  and  is 
fading  from  memory. 

The  first  conspicuous  eminence  in  the  Lenox 
Range  is  South  Mountain:  a  mile  from  Pittsfield 
Park,  and  deservedly  the  favorite  of  such  towns- 
people as  enjoy  a  moderate  walk,  through  pleasant 
avenues,  to  an  alluring  goal.  Ko  other  spot  within 
easy  distance  presents  so  many  enticements  to  the 
devotee  of  the  romantic  in  natural  scenery.  From 
several  points  upon  it,  you  will  get  the  best  views 
of  the  town  of  Pittsfield  to  be  had:  except,  perhaps, 
one  from  Day  Mountain  in  Dalton.  The  rocky 
natural  terraces  on  its  north-eastern  side  afford 
strolls  of  novel  beauty,  and  rich  in  wild-flowers: 
"  Flowers,  purple,  blue  and  white, 
Like  sapphire,  pearl  and  rich  embroidery.** 
Mount  Osceola,  next  in  the  range,  is  a  large  and 
shapely  mountain,  playing  an  important  part  in  the 
landscape,  and  interesting,  although  not  especially 
so,  to  the  excursionist. 

Beyond  Osceola,  and  an  intervening  valley,  the 
Lenox  range  rises  to  its  greatest  altitude,  one  thou- 
sand and  sixty-five  feet  above  the  track  of  the  rail- 
road at  the  Richmond  Depot,  or  twenty-one  hundred 
and  fifteen,  above  the  sea  level.  Rising  sharply  from 
the  Richmond  valley,  its  contour  is  more  clearly  de- 
fined than  that  of  any  other  mountain  —  Greylock 
always  excepted  —  which  is  visible  from  Pittsfield. 
In  this  view  it  assumes  a  distinctly  pyramidal  form, 
which  gives  it  great  prominence;  but  the  summit  is 
not  often  visited  by  pleasure-seekers,  as  thick  woods 


354  TAGHCONIC. 

obscure  the  prospects  which  would  otherwise  be 
among  the  most  magnificent  in  Berkshire.  A  spec- 
tator perched  among  the  boughs  of  some  tall  and 
favorably  located  tree,  looks  directly  down  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  upon  the  Lenox  and  Stockbridge, 
the  Pittsfield,  Lanesboro'  and  Dalton,  and  the  Rich- 
mond and  West  Stockbridge  valleys,  as  well  as  away 
to  the  Catskill  and  other  distant  summits.  But  such 
an  observatory  defies  the  daring  of  the  most  adven- 
turous young  woman  in  the  maddest  of  our  Alpine 
clubs  —  not  to  impugn  the  aspiring  courage  of  the 
masculine  mountain-climbers  —  and  it  behooves  the 
tasteful  people  of  Lenox  or  of  Pittsfield,  to  erect 
here,  in  some  suitable  clearing,  a  stone  tower  of 
liberal  dimensions.  Visible  from  every  train  of 
the  Boston  and  Albany  railroad,  it  would  soon  be- 
come as  famous  as  the  Wads  worth  tower  near  Hart- 
ford, and  render  the  peak  the  favorite  mountain 
resort  of  central  Berkshire. 

I  once  passed  a  delicious  summer-day  here  with  a 
party  of  rare  climbers,  who  believed  that  we  were 
upon  Perry's  Peak.  We  were  sorely  disappointed 
in  not  finding  the  superb  views  we  had  been  pro- 
mised: and  the  disappointment  was  aggravated  by 
the  tantalizing  glimpses,  some  of  us  succeeded  in 
getting  after  much  effort.  Nevertheless  we  had  a 
day  of  memorable  enjoyment  by  the  aid  of  some 
freely-voiced  music,  and  readings  from  the  poets  by 
one  who  had  a  rare  gift  that  way: 

Wlien  we  came  to  learn  that  we  had  not  been  upon 
Perry's   Peak   at   all,  but   only  upon  the  nameless 


yocun's  seat.  355 

"  highest  point  of  the  Lenox  Range,"  we  felt  that 
so  grand  a  feature  of  the  landscape  deserved  a  less 
awkward  designation :  and  we  agreed  upon  one.  It 
was  a  noble  and  fitting  name:  but  I  shall  not  tell  it 
to  you;  for  it  is  best  to  avoid  confusion  in  such 
matters  — and  be-thinking  ourselves  that,  as  the 
peak  is  in  the  bailiwick  of  Lenox,  its  christening  by 
us  might  be  resented  as  discourteous  intrusion,  we 
did  not  proceed  with  it. 

Afterwards,  however,  I  mentioned  the  incident  to 
a  brilliant  Lenox  woman  —  a  Lenox  woman  by  virtue 
of  a  residence  of  several  summers,  and,  I  believe, 
winters  also  —  who  spoke  of  a  name  which  is  cer- 
tainly not  alien  to  this  region: 

Yocun's  Seat. 

Yocun  was  a  noted  Indian  chief  of  the  vicinage, 
who,  with  his  fellow-chieftain,  Ephraim,  sold  to  the 
grantees  from  the  Province,  the  rights  of  their 
people  in  the  township  now  divided  into  Lenox  and 
Richmond;  but  which  as  plantations  were  known  as 
Yocuntown  and  Mount  Ephraim.  When  Richmond 
was  incorporated  as  a  town  in  1765;  and  Lenox  in 
1767,  the  sachems  were,  in  very  unceremonious 
fashion,  deprived  of  their  honors,  in  order  that  they 
might  be  bestowed  upon  Charles  Lenox,  Duke  of 
Richmond:  the  friend  of  Horace  Walpole,  and  the 
early  defender,  in  the  House  of  Lords,  of  American 
colonial  rio^hts. 

This  seemed  to  Mrs.  X.  and  the  lively  circle  about 
her,  a  very  sad  case  of  robbing  Peter  to  pay  Paul; 


366  TAGHCONIC. 

and  she  proposed  to  rectify  the  ancient  wrong  in 
part,  by  giving  the  old  Lenox  sachem's  name  to  the 
highest  point  of  Lenox  Mountain.  And  she  was  the 
more  satisfied  of  the  rightfulness  of  this  tardy  and 
partial  restitution  of  stolen  honors,  when  she  un- 
earthed —  for  aught  I  know,  from  the  rich  stores  of 
her  friend.  Miss  Sedgwick  —  a  tradition  that  Chief 
Yocun,  in  his  later  years,  was  wont  often  to  seek 
this  commanding  summit,  and,  seated  there  in 
kingly  sorrow,  to  gaze  long  and  sadly  over  the  fair 
realms  which,  partly  by  his  own  act,  had  passed 
from  the  sway  of  the  red  man. 

If  you  think  with  this  justice-loving  woman, 
Yocun's  Seat,  let  it  be. 

But,  by  the  by,  and  before  I  forget  His  Grace  of 
Richmond  entirely,  it  may  relieve  the  minds  of  some 
hypercritical  people,  of  whom  I  often  hear,  to  tell 
them  that,  although  there  is  a  Scottish  region  known 
as  "  The  Lennox,"  the  charter  of  the  Berkshire  town 
follows  correctly  the  spelling  of  the  ducal  family 
name  in  using  only  a  single  "  n. ' 

The  pyramidal  appearance  of  Yocun's  Seat,  as 
seen  from  Pittsfield,  is  deceptive;  it  being  only  the 
terminal  presentation  of  a  ridge  which  descends 
very  gradually  for  some  miles  to  the  south-west. 
The  chain  is  continued  by  connected  elevations 
through  Alford  to  the  main  range  of  the  Taconics 
in  Egremont,  although  the  elevation  at  the  last  be- 
comes so  slight  as  hardly  to  be  recognized;  giving 
the  spur  the  appearance  of  an  isolated  chain  of  hills. 
These    mountains  —  many  of  which  command   su- 


LENOX.  357 

perb  views  —  are  generally  known  by  the  names  of 
the  towns  in  which  they  lie;  but,  upon  the  border 
between  Alford  and  West  Stockbridge,  Tom  Ball 
rises  abruptly,  and  proclaims  itself  one  of  the  most 
notable  of  the  great  mountains  of  Berkshire.  Pre- 
sident Hitchcock  speaks  of  the  Lenox  spur  of  the 
Taconics  as  here  attaining  its  highest  elevation,  but 
he  does  not  state  the  height  of  Tom  Ball,  nor  whether 
he  refers  to  its  elevation  above  the  sea,  or  above  the 
bottom  of  the  neighboring  valley.  I  think  that  the 
latter  is  intended,  and  that  Yocun's  Seat,  which 
rises  from  a  valley  level  two  hundred  feet  higher 
than  the  more  southern  mountain  has,  is,  in  regard 
to  the  sea  level,  the  higher  altitude;  although  the  dif- 
ference can  hardly  be  more  than  one  hundred  feet. 
But  we  have  now  to  do  only  with  the  northern 
portion  of  the  Lenox  spur,  which,  bending  around 
the  Lenox  and  Stockbridge  valley,  separates  it  from 
those  of  Pittsfield,  Richmond  and  West  Stockbridge. 
By  the  Lenox  and  Stockbridge  valley,  I  do  not 
mean  the  Housatonic  valley  in  which  the  villages 
of  Lenox  Furnace,  Lee  and  Stockbridge  on  the 
Plain  are  built.  Lenox  has,  besides  its  farming  dis- 
tricts, two  thriving  villages.  Lenox  Furnace,  the 
seat  of  the  glass  and  iron  works,  lies  directly  upon 
the  Housatonic  river  and  railroad.  Westward  from 
this  the  ground  rises  rapidly,  four  hundred  and  fifty 
feet,  in  two  and  a  half  miles;  at  the  end  of  which 
commences  a  shelf  of  rolling  upland,  extending  into 
the  elbow  formed  by  the  Lenox-  range  of  mountains 
on  the  north   and  west;    southward,  this  upland    de- 


358  TAGHCONTO. 

clines  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  Stockbridge  Bowl, 
and,  past  that  noble  sheet  of  water  on  the  right, 
and  Mount  Deokook  on  the  left,  to  the  brow  of  the 
hill  which  descends  abruptly  to  Stockbridge  Plain. 
And  this,  from  the  northern  mountain  wall  to 
Stockbridge  on  the  Hill,  is  the  far  famed  Lenox  and 
Stockbridge  valley. 

Upon  the  upland  shelf  and  its  slope  to  the  lake  — 
which  you  may  call  Mahkeenac  if  you  are  bent  upon 
it  —  are  built  the  village,  and  most  of  the  villas,  of 
Lenox-on-the-Heights;  the  favorite  haunt  of  that 
summer-life  of  which  I  have  spoken. 

And,  now,  let  us  approach  Lenox,  from  Pittsfield, 
by  the  circuitous  route  of  which  I  told  you  so  long 
ago.  Following  the  pleasant  road  which  skirts  the 
northern  bases  of  the  Lenox  range,  we  shall  come, 
after  a  drive  of  a  half  dozen  miles,  to  the  highway 
from  Lebanon  Springs,  through  Richmond  to  Lenox, 
which  here  crosses  the  southern  slope  of  Yocun's 
Seat.  The  same  route  was  followed  very  long  ago 
by  some  very  distinguished  tourists  to  whom  I  in- 
troduced you  in  the  story  of  Perry's  Peak. 

Descending  the  ridge  upon  the  east,  you  will 
obtain  the  best  view  of  Lenox;  a  white  village,  half 
hidden  by  embowering  trees  and  seated  upon  a 
gently  sloping  and  richly  cultivated  swell  of  land. 
In  various  directions  you  will  see  picturesque  villas 
and  cottages  in  park-like  grounds,  although  the  most 
costly  are  not  in  this  view.  On  an  eminence  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  village,  rises  the  fine  old-fashioned 
New    England     meeting-house    in    which    William 


LEXOX.  359 

Ellery  Cl/anning  delivered  his  last  discourse,  and 
which  bears  on  its  front  the  clock  presented  by- 
Frances  Anne  Kerable.  On  your  left  you  will  look 
down  the  luxurious  Lenox  and  Stockbridge  valley. 
It  was  the  view  from  this  point  which  compelled 
from  a  band  of  Hungarian  exiles  the  shout,  "  Beauty  ! 
Beauty  !"  Their  English  could  go  no  farther  than 
that;  nor  was  more  needed. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  for  you  the  nice 
points  of  Lenox  scenery:  there  are  too  many  of 
them.  Lenox  summer-folk  —  the  most  energetic  of 
pleasure  seekers  —  are  always  trooping  to  some  ot 
them:  bill-top,  cliff,  lake-side  or  glen  —  "And  small 
blame  to  them  !  "  said  an  L-ish  friend  of  mine  who 
had  in  his  student-life  been  familiar  with  all  that  is 
best  in  Italian  and  German  landscape  —  "  and  small 
blame  to  them ;  for  this  Lenox  beats  the  world  for 
grand  going-places."  "  Going-places "  was  a  new 
phrase  to  me;  but  I  do  not  think  that  it  needs  in- 
terpretation. Of  these  Lenox  going-places,  one  of 
the  most  admired  is  so  central  as  the  village  church 
yard.  Indeed  you  can  hardly  walk  a  dozen  rods 
without  coming  upon  a  new  phase  of  loveliness 
which  in  regions  where  beauty  is  not  so  freely 
lavished  would  be  deemed  wonderful.  The  favorite 
points  are  those  which,  like  Church  Hill,  The  Ledge, 
and  Bald  Head,  look  down  the  rich  vista  of  the 
Stockbridge  Valley,  with  the  blue  Dome  of  the 
Taghconics  rising  in  the  distance.  But  the  spot 
which  glows  most  vividly  in  my  remembrance  is 
''  The   Old  Judge   Walker  Hill."     I  passed   a  glad 


360  TAGHCONIC. 

summer  afternoon  there,  years  ago,  and  made  a  de- 
liberate effort  to  fix  the  landscape  in  my  memory. 
I  do  not  know  how  much  has,  nevertheless,  faded; 
but  I  still  seem  to  see  a  rolling  country,  of  mingled 
wood,  field  and  meadow,  intersected  with  shaded 
avenues;  with  Stockbridge  Bowl  and  Laurel  Lake 
gleaming  in  blue  and  silver  amid  the  broad  verdure; 
a  pretty  glimpse  of  Lee  village  in  the  middle  dis- 
tance; and,  still  beyond,  great  mountains,  whose 
personality  I  did  not  recognize.  It  was  a  bewilder- 
ing excess  of  beauty. 

But  grand  and  lovely  as  are  the  natural  attrac- 
tions of  Lenox,  they  are  not  so  pre-eminent  as  to 
account  for  the  place  which  it  holds  in  the  esteem 
of  those  who  give  tone  to  the  world's  opinions. 
That  has  been  gained  by  social  influences  of  ex- 
ceptional power:  which  it  may  not  be  profane  to 
consider  briefly.  And  among  those  influences  we 
must  concede  that  a  large  share  were  derived  pri- 
marily from  the  Sedgwick  family:  not,  however,  to 
the  extent  of  admitting  that,  in  1821,  they  went  to 
the  shire  town  of  Berkshire,  missionaries  of  culture 
among  a  rude  people. 

In  1821,  Mr.  Charles  Sedgwick  was  compelled  by 
his  duties  as  clerk  of  the  County  Courts,  to  remove 
to  Lenox.  / 

Mr.  Sedgwick  was  the  yo,ungest  and  favorite 
brother  of  the  authoress,  between  whom  and  his 
wife  there  was  also  a  very  tender  friendship.  For 
the  two  years  succeeding  his  marriage,  they  had 
lived  as  one  household  in  the  old  Stockbridge  home- 


LENOX.  361 

stead,  and  the  change,  in  1821,  was  very  distasteful  to 
Miss  Catherine,  whose  judgment  of  her  brother's 
new  place  of  residence  was  characteristically  warped 
by  its  connection  with  tbe  disruption  of  the  pleasant 
family  circle,  over  which  she  moaned  disconsolately 
in  her  correspondence.  Her  biographer  —  doubtless 
receiving  her  impressions  from  the  writings  or  con- 
versations of  Miss  Sedgwick  —  describes  the  Lenox 
of  1821,  as  "a  bare  and  ugly  little  village,  perched 
upon  a  desolate  hill  at  the  end  of  six  miles  of  rough 
and  steep  driving;"  and,  while  admitting,  to  the 
full,  the  native  beauties  of  Lenox  scenery,  she  thinks 
that  to  a  "  native  and  lover  of  the  lich  valley  of 
Stockbridge,  with  its  soft  and  graceful  variations  of 
meadow  and  wood,  its  gentle  river  and  sheltering 
mountains,  and  the  appearance  of  refinement  even 
then  given  to  its  dwellings,  Lenox  must  have  seemed 
dismally  bleak  and  uncouth." 

There  was  certainly  some  foundation  for  these 
strong  expressions,  but  they,  as  certainly,  owe  their 
extreme  bitterness  to  the  great  liability  of  Miss 
Sedgwick's  judgment  to  be  disturbed  by  the  relations 
of  men  and  things  to  the  House  of  Sedgwick.  Lenox- 
on-the-Heights  stands  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
higher  than  Stockbridge-on-the-Plain :  full  one- 
quarter  of  the  rise  being  within  a  mile  of  the  Sedg- 
wick homestead  on  Stockbridge  street.  The  height 
of  Lenox  above  Pittsfield  Park  is  one  hundred  and 
forty-three  feet.  The  present  denizens  of  the  place 
decidedly  pique  themselves  upon  its  altitude.  Tra- 
dition tells  dismal  stories  of  the  Berkshire  roads  a 
31 


362  TAQHCONIC. 

half  century  ago,  and  the  soil  of  Lenox  is  not  favora- 
ble for  road,  building.  The  drive  from  Stockbridge, 
llo^Y  so  wonderfully  delicious,  was  beyond  ques- 
tion very  different  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year 
1821. 

President  D wight,  who  visited  the  village  in  1798, 
thus  describes  it: 

"  Lenox,  the  shire  town  of  the  county,  is  principally  built 
upon  a  single  street,  on  a  ridge,  declining  rather  pleasantly  to 
the  east  and  west,  but  disagreeably  interrupted  by  several 
deep  valleys  crossing  it  at  right  angles.  The  soil  and  the 
buildings  are  good,  and  the  town  exhibits  many  marks  of 
prosperity.  The  public  buildings  consist  of  a  church  (the 
same  which  now  crowns  the  hill),  a  court-house,  a  school- 
liouse  and  jail." 

Not  a  glowing  description,  nor  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  repulsive.  And  the  place  must  have  improved 
in  the  twenty-three  years  between  1*798  and  1821. 
Still  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  Lenox,  even  of  the 
latter  year,  bore  but  a  sorry  comparison  with  either 
the  present  urbanized  Lenox  or  the  Stockbridge  of 
sixty  years  ago.  In  1821  the  commonwealth  had 
few  villages  of  which  the  same  cannot  be  said, 
with  at  least  equal  force. 

In  regard  to  social  life,  the  superiority  of  Stock- 
bridge  was  less  marked;  amounting,  to  put  it  at  its 
strongest,  to  no  more  than  was  to  be  expected  in  the 
older,  richer,  and  more  populous  town.  Lenox  had 
even  then  a  social  circle  of  culture,  exceptional  even 
among  larger  towns. 

As  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  present  century^ 


LENOX.  363 

as  we  may  fairly  infer  from  the  correspondence  of 
so  competent  a  critic  as  Henry  Van  Schaack,  men  of 
much  more  than  ordinary  refinement,  information 
and  breadth  of  thought  were  accustomed  to  meet 
around  the  hospitable  board  of  Major  Eggleston. 
In  1821,  Lenox  had  been  for  thirty-four  years  the 
county  seat  of  Berkshire;  and  it  was  then  the  cus- 
tom for  the  judges  —  more  numerous  than  now  — 
and,  at  least  the  leading  members  of  the  bar,  to  re- 
main in  town  through  the  long  sessions  of  the 
courts:  a  fact  which  must  have  greatly  benefited  local 
society.  And  it  is  no  unmeaning  jest  to  add,  that 
some  of  the  most  cultured  citizens  of  other  sections 
of  the  county  were  often  compelled,  as  prisoners  for 
debt,  to  pass  long  periods  in  Lenox,  in  its  legal 
capacity  as  "  jail  limits."  The  Lenox  Academy,  one 
of  the  most  successful  high  schools  in  the  state,  had 
flourished  since  1803,  and  in  1821  was  under  the 
charge  of  scholarly  Levi  Glezen:  and  it,  too,  must 
have  had  its  mollifying  effect  upon  men  and  man- 
ners. 

Among  the  permanent  citizens  were  the  elder  and 
the  younger  Judge  Walker,  County  Treasurer  Joseph 
Tucker,  Hev.  Dr.  Shepard,  Doctors  Worthington  and 
Collins,  and  James  W.  Robbins  who,  with  others  of 
like  merit,  betoken  a  very  respectable  elevation  of 
village  society. 

I  think,  therefore,  that  the  picture  which  appalled 
Miss  Sedgwick's  imagination  when  she  first  learned 
the  necessity  for  her  brother's  removal  to  the  seat  of 
the  county  business  may  be  sufiicientlv  softened  to 


?Jd4  TAGHCONIC. 

leave  us  a  prosperous,  and  rather  pleasant,  county- 
town,  with  a  population  of  some  refinement,  very- 
considerable  liberal  culture,  and  much  intellectual 
power:  comparing  quite  favoraby  with  most  of  the 
New  England  county-seats  of  that  era.  The  six 
miles  exile  of  the  county-clerk  and  his  family  fell 
far  short  of  Siberian  severity:  as  his  sister  found, 
wheUj  some  ten  years  later,  she  consented  to  share  it. 

It  was  about  the  year  1831,  that  Lenox  became 
the  chief  summer  residence  of  Miss  Sedgwick,  who 
in  winter  made  her  home  with  either  of  two  brothers 
resident  in  New  York,  as  she  might  elect.  In  the  in- 
terval between  1821  and  1831,  Lenox  village  had 
improved  in  appearance,  and  its  society  had  received 
some  valuable  accessions;  particularly  in  the  family 
of  Henry  W. —  afterwards  Judge  —  Bishop,  Mr. 
Sedgwick's  life-long  friend.  A  coterie  composed 
largely  of  gentlemen  holding  county-offices,  and 
their  families,  had  grown,  or  was  growing,  into  a 
remarkable  social  body,  distinguished  for  intellec- 
tual graces,  and  the  marvel  of  all  observers  for 
its  fraternal  friendship  and  close  alliance.  In  this 
circle,  the  love-compelling  qualities  of  Charles  Sedg- 
wick and  the  queenly  powers  of  his  accomplished 
wife  made  them  conspicuous. 

But,  as  yet,  Lenox  had  only  provincial  distinction. 
The  great  world  took  little  note  of  the  superb 
scenery,  still  less  of  the  life,  of  the  little  mountain 
town.  The  residence  of  Miss  Sedgwick  soon  began 
to  change  all  this.  ITer  literary  fame,  the  social 
distinction  of  her  family  in  the  metropolis,  and  more 


LENOX.  365 

than  all,  her  sympathies  with  humanity  —  which 
were  as  world-wide  as  her  local  affections  were  in- 
tense —  soon  began  to  attract  to  her  country  home, 
men  and  women  of  the  more  intellectual  class  every 
where;  and  especially  those  most  deeply  engaged 
in  efforts  to  speed  the  world  towards  its  better 
future.  ISTot  only  the  champions  of  freedom  and 
humanity  in  the  great  centers  of  American  effort, 
but  the  higher  order  of  republican  exiles  from  Italy 
and  Hungary,  made  pilgrimages  to  the  home  of  a 
family  whose  sympathy  with  embattled  right  was 
not  limited  by  nationality.  The  keen  and  friendly 
interest  of  the  whole  Sedgwick  family  of  that  gene- 
ration in  the  struggles  of  European  republicanism 
was,  by  the  bye,  in  violent  contrast  with  the  senti- 
ments of  their  father. 

The  singular  merit  of  the  family  school  for  young 
ladies  which,  begun  by  Mrs.  Charles  Sedgwick  in 
1828,  grew  to  great  fame,  also  largely  influenced  the 
gathering  and  moulding  of  the  summer  society 
peculiar  to  Lenox;  and  not  less  did  the  accession  of 
Mrs.  Kemble,  who  became,  first  a  frequent  visitor 
of  the  Sedgwicks,  and  afterwards  a  permanent  resi- 
dent, zealously  active  in  promoting  the  good  of  the 
town. 

In  a  letter,  of  November  1842,  Miss  Sedgwick 
hints  the  characteristics  of  the  social  life  which 
grew  up  under  these  and  similar  influences  and 
became  so  wonderfully  attractive. 

"  Yon  have  heard  of  Channing's  death,  and  perhaps  that  he 
passed  the  sumraer  ..t  l,en.>x,  and  in  a  free  and  happy  condition 


360  TAGHCONIC. 

of  mind  and  body,  such  as  he  often  said  he  did  not  remember 
to  have  enjoyed  since  childhood,  and  such  as  his  friends  had 
never  before  observed.  He  seemed  to  have  thrown  off  every 
shackle,  to  be  lid  of  his  precision  ;  and  he  was  so  affectionate 
and  playful  with  the  youn^  people  that  those  who  did  not 
before  know  him  wondered  why  any  one  should  fear  Dr. 
Channing.  He  liked  our  anti-conventionalism;  our  free  way& 
of  going  on  —  our  individual  independence  of  thought  aud 
action  ;  he  enjoyed,  as  if  he  had  come  to  his  father's  house, 
the  forever-changing  beauty  of  our  hills  and  valleys,  and  he 
went  away  with  more  than  half  a  promise  to  return  to  us 
next  summer." 

I  find  this  letter,  which  is  addressed  to  Rev.  Dr. 
Orville  Dewey,  in  Miss  Sedgwick's  "  Life  and 
Letters."  In  the  recently  published  correspondence 
of  Charles  Sumner,  there  are  two  or  three  letters 
which  illustrate  the  unconventionalism  of  Lenox 
life  from  another  point  of  view.  In  the  latter 
summer  of  1844,  Mr.  Sumner  visited  Hon.  ISTathan 
Appleton  in  his  country-seat  at  Pittsfield,  reinvigor- 
ating  his  impaired  health,  and  "  enjoying  much  the 
meadows,  green  fields,  rich  country  and  beautiful 
scenery,"  in  rides  upon  a  horse  loaned  him  by  his 
host's  neighbor,  Hon.  E.  A.  Newton.  He  gave  his 
impressions  freely  in  letters  to  George  S.  Hillard 
and  Dr.  S.  G.  Howe,  who  had  been  his  companions 
during  part  of  his  visit.  Under  date  of  September 
10th,  1844,  he  writes  thus  to  Mr.  Hillard  concerning 
two  rides  to  Lenox: 

"  He  [Mr,  Samuel  G.  Ward]  jolted  ub  in  his  wagon  to  view 

the  farms,  one  of  which  he  coveted.  Afterwards,  we  looked 
on  while,  in  a  field  not  far  off,  the  girls  and  others  engapred 
in  the  sport  of  archery.     Mrs.  Butler  (Fanny  Kemble)  hit  the 


LENOX.  367 

target  in  the  golden  middle.  The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and 
1  was  perplexed  whether  to  use  Mr.  Newton's  horse,  as  I  pre- 
sume the  master  never  used  him  on  Sunday.  But  my  scruples 
gave  way  before  my  longings  for  the  best  of  exercises.  I  left 
Pittsfield  as  the  first  bell  was  tolling  and  arrived  at  Lenox 
some  time  before  the  second  bell.  I  sat  in  Miss  Sedgwick's 
room  ;  time  passed  oh.  Mrs.  Butler  joined  us  and  again  time 
passed  on.  Mrs.  Butler  proposed  to  accompany  me  to  Pitts- 
field  on  horse-back.  I  stayed  to  the  cold  dinner,  making  it  a 
lunch.  Time  again  passed  on  from  the  delay  in  saddling  the 
horses.  We  rode  the  longest  way,  and  I  enjoyed  my  com. 
panion  very  much." 

Again  on  the  12  th  Mr.  Sumner  writes  to  Mr. 
Hillard  from  Pittsfield : 

"  I  wish  you  were  still  here.  Your  presence  would  help  me 
bear  the  weight  of  Fanny  Kemble's  conversation.  I  confess, 
to  a  certain  awe,  and  a  sense  of  her  superiority,  which  makes 
me  at  times  anxious  to  subside  into  my  inferiority,  and  leave 
the  conversation  to  be  sustained  by  others." 

The  glimpses  into  the  Lenox  life  of  a  generation 
ago,  afforded  by  these  extracts,  convey  a  better  idea 
of  its  peculiar  charms  than  I  could  give  you  in  any 
other  way.  The  passing  away  of  that  generation  of 
the  Sedgwick  family,  and  of  most  of  their  associates, 
together  with  the  removal  of  others,  consequent  upon 
the  change  in  the  county  seat,  has  taken  away,  for 
the  most  part,  the  local  frame  work,  upon  which  the 
summer  society  of  Lenox  first  formed  itself.  But 
it  had  already  outgrown  that  frame-work.  The 
flood  of  life  which  poured  towards  these  romantic 
heights  as  they  became  more^and  more  known,  was 
perplexing  in  its  variety.  Millionaires,  artists,  poets, 
politicians,  scholars  and  statesmen  came  in  yearly 


368  ,  TAGHCONTC. 

succeeding  waves.  Some  found  themselves  in 
harmony  with  the  genius  of  the  place  and  affiliated 
themselves  with  it :  others,  after  a  more  or  less  brief 
trial,  sought  a  more  congenial  resort  elsewhere.  In 
the  meanwhile,  villas  and  cottages  have  sprung  up 
on  all  manner  of  beautiful  sites;  and  such  luxurious 
appointments  as  metropolitan  tastes  demanded  have 
in  some  measure  been  supplied.  Society  has  of 
course  much  .modified  its  usages  to  accommodate 
itself  to  these  changes.  What  the  exact  result  has 
been,  as  I  warned  you  at  the  first,  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  tell,  or  even  myself  to  understand,  but  it  is  at 
least  something  unlike  any  other  social 'life;  and  I 
believe  it  to  have  so  far  retained  the  old  spirit,  that 
Lenox-on-the-Heights  —  in  spite  of  stately  mansions, 
showy  equipages  and  fashionable  clubs  —  still  re- 
mains the  Paradise  of  unconventional  good-breeding. 


L'ENVOI. 

To  thee,  perchance,  this  rambling  strain 

Recalls  our  summer  walks  again ; 

When  doing  naught  —  and  to  speak  true, 

Not  caring  to  find  ought  to  do  — 

Tlie  wild  unbounded  hills,  we  ranged. 

While  oft  our  talk  its  topic  changed. 

And,  desultory  as  our  way. 

Ranged  unconfined  from  grave  to  gay: 

Even  when  it  flagged,  as  pft  would  chance. 

No  eflbrt  made  to  break  the  trance, 

We  could  right  pleasantly  pursue 

Our  sports  in  social  silence,  too. —  Walter  ScoU. 


We  must  finish  here  our  rambles  upon  the  sum- 
mer-enchanted hills  of  Berkshire,  which  we  have 
ranged,  as  I  hoj.^e,  not  altogether  without  pleasure, 
or  profit.  But  I  feel  that  my  neighbors  will  com- 
plain, with  reason,  if  I  forget  the  multitude  of  our 
own  enticing  "  going-places,"  which,  are,  at  least,  not 
exceeded  in  number  or  loveliness  even  by  those  of 
Lenox.  To  some  of  them,  I  have  already  conducted 
you;  but  there  are  others  quite  as  choice,  which  it 
w  )iild  be  unpardonable  in  one  who  owes  to  them  so 
many  days  of  exquisite  pleasure,  to  neglect,  for 
wanderings  to  the   end  of  the  county.     And  even 


87C  •  TAGHCONIC. 

if  I  cannot  now  go  with  you  to  them,  you  too, 
would  have  cause  for  complaint,  if  I  left  you  totally 
uninformed  of  their  existence. 

If,  coming  to  us  for  a  single  day,  you  should 
ask,  what  ride,  of  all  others  to  select,  the  answer 
would  almost  certainly  be :  "  To  Potter's  Moun- 
tain !  "  This  bare  and  lofty  Taghconic  summit  lies 
some  six  miles  north-west  of  us.  When  it  was  very 
difficult  of  access  it  was  a  frequent  and  favorite  re- 
sort of  Herman  Melville  and  his  companions  in  pic- 
nic. A  new  highway  to  Hancock,  now  renders  the 
ride  to  its  mossy  top,  perfectly  easy,  and  the  whole 
town  seems  to  have  gone  mad  over  its  fine  and 
comprehensive  views  of  mountains,  valleys,  lakes, 
streams,  villages  and  groves. 

A  most  alluring  "  going-place"  for  young  people, 
in  pairs  and  parties,  is  Lulu  Cascade,  in  a  lonely 
nook  between  two  Taghconic  hills,  some  two  miles 
n) 111 -west  of  Lake  Onota.  It  is  almost  the  exact 
counterpart  of  the  little  water-fall  of  which  I  told 
you  in  the  story  of  Undine's  Glen,  which  was  ruined 
years  ag  >  by  the  wood-choppers.  A  silver-white 
column  of  water  falls  fifteen  feet  over  dark  rocks, 
into  a  broad  black  pool,  overhung  by  a  huge  grey 
boulder.  Below  is  a  ravine,  shaded  half  with  rocks 
and  half  with  trees,  and  a  rippling  brook.  The  mer- 
riest of  all  parties  linger  to  lunch  upon  its  banks. 

A  cool  and  pretty  wood-road  leads  up  the  southern 
bank  of  the  brook,  and  if,  after  pursuing  it  for  per- 
haps half  a  mile,  you  climb  a  moderate  hill  upon 
your  left,  vou  will  find  upon  its  top  a  basin  in  which 


l'enyoi.  371 

lies  Berry  Pond:  the  gem  of  mountain  lakelets. 
Its  shore  is  a  favorite  camping  ground  for  those  who 
seek  a  brief  interval  of  woodland  life.  Berry  Pond 
and  Lulu  Cascade  are  not  to  be  omitted  in  any  pro- 
gramme of  Berkshire  summer  excursions. 

And  yet  the  ride  upon  which  I  should  best  love  to 
take  many  of  you  is  different  from  either  of  those 
which  I  have  described.  What  is  known  as  the  old, 
or  east,  road  to  Lanesboro';  and  is  now  little  used, 
runs  for  a  great  part  of  its  length  along  the  crest  of 
an  upland  ridge,  noted  for  its  fertility.  The  drive 
along  this  road  is  exceedingly  pleasant,  with  its 
border  of  rich  farms,  oa  er  which  we  look  on  every 
side  to  noble  mountain  landscapes.  After  a  five-mile 
drive  along  this  ridge  and  in  a  picturesque  valley, 
we  rise  to  the  summit  of  the  road  on  the  southern 
slope  of  Prospect  Hill  in  Lanesboro',  with  the  village 
below  us  and  a  magnificent  over-view  stretching  to 
the  Lenox  Hills.  We  may  now  descend  to  the 
village  and  pursue  our  way  home,  past  Pontoosuc 
Lake.  But  it  would  be  better  to  turn  down  the 
eastern  descent  to  Berkshire  village,  the  seat 
of  the  Crystal  Glass  Manufacture,  where,  at  the 
foot  of  Crystal  Mountain,  we  should  find,  great  heaps 
of  white  silicious  sand,  which  if  it  were  winter,  you 
could  not  distinguish  from  snow-drifts.  Then  we 
would  enter  the  works  where  this  beautiful  material 
is  transmuted  into  glass,  clear  as  crystal,  or  of  any, 
or  all,  the  colors  of  a  summer  rainbow.  I  think  some 
of  you  would  enjoy  that  excursion. 

I  should  be  glad  to  show  you  these  and  a  host  of 


372  .  TAGHCONIC. 

Other  beautiful  and  interesting  spots  which  lie 
close  about  us.  But  for  the  present  at  least,  our 
rambles  are  ended. 

I  cannot,  however,  part  with  you,  without  re- 
moving some  false  impressions,  which  a  reading  of 
the  printed  pages  leads  me  to  fear  that  I  may  have 
given  you.  I  had  no  wish  in  telling  the  story  of 
John  Chandler  Williams,  to  rob  Dr.  Benjamin 
Franklin  of  the  glory  of  securing  the  Hutchinson 
correspondence  in  England.  The  letters  obtained 
by  the  young  student-hero  must  have  been  supple- 
mentary to  the  Franklin  acquisition.  You  will  find 
the  authority  for  my  story  in  the  Journals  of  the 
Provincial  Congress,  and  in  the  History  of  The 
Williams  Family,  where  it  is  given  in  the  words  of 
Hon.  Edward  A.  Newton,  Mr.  Williams's  son-in-law. 

In  the  account  of  the  Dedication  of  the  Pittsfield 
Soldiers'  Monument,  the  prominence  given  to  Gen. 
Bartlettby  the  circumstances  of  his  subsequent  early 
death,  led  me  to  the  use  of  language  which  may  be 
construed  as  meaning  that  his  brief,  but  noble,  address 
was  the  chief  feature  of  the  ceremony;  whereas  in 
fact  the  grand  address  was  one  of  that  series  of  ora- 
tions by  George  William  Curtis,  which,  if  collected 
would  form  at  once  the  most  glowing  eulogium  and 
the  most  philosophical  commentary  upon  the  War 
for  the  Union. 

In  another  place,  I  see  that,  quoting  very  care- 
lessly from  memory,  I  have  put  the  warning,  "  Let 
him  who  hath  a  dead  hand  take  heed  how  he  strikes," 
into  the  mouth  of  Lord  Chief  Justice  Selden.     My 


l'envoi.  873 

cooler  recollection  is  that  it  came  from  the  lips  of 
quaint  old  Fuller. 

I  make  these  corrections  after  the  wisdom  of  Sir 
Richard  Moniplies  of  Castle  Collop,  whose  rule  was 
to  speak  all  the  ill  he  knew  of  his  family:  being 
quite  sure  that  if  he  did  not  some  ill-natured  person 
would  be  sure  to  detect  and  publish  it. 

And,  now  having  confessed  and  asked  absolution 
for  these  and  all  other  sins  of  omission  and  com- 
mission, I  beg  your  kindly  reciprocal 


gnxtmlU 

32 


INDEX. 


Adams, 243.250,251 

Adams,  North, 166,243,249,323 

Agriculture,  a  christianiziiig  power^ 297 

Albany  Institute, 80,108,216,222 

Alford, 833,356,357 

Allen,  Rev.  Thomas, 41,  2fcG 

Appleton,  Nathan, 191 

i^shlej  Lake,. 153 

Athenaeum,  Berkshire, 8l9,  321 

Atotarho's  Duflf, 82 

Audubon,  ..• 64 

Aupaumut, • 65,81 

Balanced  Rock, 78 

Bald  Head 359 

Bald  Mountain, 261 

Bartlett,  Gen.  Wm.  F., 46 

Bash  bish  Falls,  157  ;  (chapter  on), 215 

Beauty  and  Brains, 285 

Beauty  of  Berkshire  analyzed, 288 

Bellows  pipe.  The,    250 

Benton,  E.  R., 123 

Berkshire  scenery,  characterized, 2,  5,  288 

Berry  Pond, 370 

Bigotry  in  Berkshire, .- 312 

Bishop,  Henry  W. , 364 

Boulder  trains  of  Richmond, 116 


SVG  DTDEX. 

Bowles,  Samuel,... 337 

Brig-gs,  Geo.  N., 49 

Brown,  Col.  John, 40 

Bryant,  Wm.  C, 295,296,326 

Bupybodies, 70 

Canaan,  N.  Y., 126 

CLanuing,  Rev.  Dr.  Wm.  EUery,.  > 812,  359 

Cky,  Henry, 823 

Columbia  Hall,  Lebanon  Springs, 92,  128 

Constitution  Hill, 167 

Convertinga  Tory, 23,207 

Copake,N.Y 216,223 

Crane,  Zenas  and  Zenas  M., 267 

Curtis,  George  William, 371 

Dal  ton, 183,  251,  266 

Deokook,  Mount, 358 

Dewey.  Prof.  Cliester, 287 

Dome  of  the  Tagliconics, ....  240 

Douglas,  Alfred, ...^ 217,  220 

Douglas,  Captain  Asa, 41 

Dwiglit,  Gen.  Joseph, • 314 

Eagle's  Nest, ...  218,  219 

Eiiston,  Col.  James, 40 

Edwards.  Jonathan, 56,296,298 

Egleston,  Major  Azariah, 363 

Egremont,  216,241 

Elm,  old,  of  Pittsfield, 12 

Elms  of  Stockbridge, 295 

FernClifiF, - 324 

Field,  Cyrus  W., 805,344 

Field,  David  Dudley, 304,  344 

Field  Meetings,  Scientific, .* 79,105,216 

Fort  Hill,  Commisariat  and  merry  days  at, 183 

(j^  jgraphy,  Physical .^ 117,  342 

Geology,   80,  119,  129,  152.  165 


INDEX.  377 

Glassworks,  Berkshire  Crystal, 37I 

Goodale,  Elaine  and  Dora,  the  child  poets, 216 

(ioodale,  H.  S.,..  , 220 

(ioodricli,  Captain  Charles, 20 

Grace,  the  madcap, 64,  65,  75, 245 

Great  Barrinorton.  216,  241,  308 ;  (chapter  on),   322 

"  Green  Hills  of  Taghconic,"  song, I49 

GreenRiver,     216,241,333 

Grey  lock,  1 ;  (chapter  on),  242 ;  Heart  of, 258 

Greylock  Hall,. .  „ 246,  346.  347 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,   317 

^^""ock, 40^3^9 

Headley,  J.  T., 240 

Hermit  Cascade, , 201 

Highway  Surveyors,  tyranny  of,   I9 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell, no,  192  et  seq. 

Homes,  Henry  A.,    221 

Hoosac  Mountains,  2,  141 ;  splendid  views  from, 154,  323 

Hoosac  Tunnel,    m.etscq. 

Hopkins,  Pres.  Mark, 305^  344 

Hopkins,  Prof.  Albert 2qO  344 

Hopper,  The, 262 

Housatouic  rail  road, ' 322 

Hudson's  Brook, -./.« 

Icy  Glen, gj^ 

Indian  Mission  and  burial  place,  Stockbridge, 296 

Isabel  Walton,  story  of, 13 

Josh  Billings,. ^ r,« 

Kemble,  Mrs.  Frances  Anne, 242,  252,  359,  365,  366 

Lanesborough,  I53,  i67,  228,  301,  337,  338 

Laura's  Hest, ong 

Laurel  Hill, gQ^ 

Laurel  Lake, gge 

Lawyers  as  wizards, . .  ^ 31 

Lebanon  Springs,  86  ,  Life  at, 8Q  X48 


378  INDEX. 

Lee,     121,324 

Lenox,  108,  110,  123,  241,  251,  308 ;  (chapter  on), 349 

Lenox  Furuace, 153,  357 

Lenox  Mountain  Range,    ....   125, 128,  351 

Lilly  Bowl 352 

Lonofellow,  Henry  W., 190 

Love  making,  Scientific, 107 

Lulu  Cascade,. 369 

Lyell,  Sir  Charles, 122 

Mahkeenac,  Lake, 316,  319 

Maple  wood  Grounds  and  Young  Ladies'  Institute, 284 

Melville,  Hermann, 198,  317,  318 

Melville  Hill, 351 

Melville  Lake, 351 

Melville,  Major  Thomas, 198 

Minute-men  of  1775  and  1861, 42 

Money  Hole, 260 

Monument  Mountain, 110,  318,  321/ 

Mount  Rhigi, 223 

Mount  Washington 215,  218 

Nathan  Jackson's  integrity, 210 

Natural  Bridge  at  North  Adams, 164 

NewAshford, 337 

North  Adams  (chapter  on),  156,  243,  249 

Notch,  The,  at  North  Adams, 249 

October  Mountain, 199 

Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs, 191 

Old  Elm  of  Pittsfield  Park, r 12 

Old  Worshipper,  The, 172 

Onota  Lake,  * 180 

Osceola,  Mount, 358 

Painter's  Story,  The, 144 

Paper  mills, 266 

Parker,  Sharpshooter  Linus, 203 

Perry,  Rev.  David, 112 


INDEX.  379 

Perry's  Peak, 104, 108 

Phantoms  of  Shoon-keek-Moon-keek, 67 

Pic-nic  life, C3,  104,  246 

Pine,  Song  to  the, 75 

Pittsfield, 9,39 

Poems. 

Grey  old  Elm, 37 

Pinos  loquentes  semper  habemns, 75 

Green  hills  of  Taghconic, 149 

Sunny  Vale, 213 

King  Greylock's  mountain  height, 264 

Scatter  the  Germs  of  the  Beaatiftil, 291 

Stockbridge  Bowl, , , 320 

Agricultural  Ode, 828 

Poontoosuc, , » , 67 

Pontoosuc  Lake, 60,  245 

Potter's  Mountain, 369 

Quartzite 181,141,153,201 

Queechy  Lake, , ...  87,  141 

Bailroads. 

Boston  and  Albany, 323 

Housatonic, 323 

Rebellion,  War  of  the,. . . .  < 42,  44 

Revolution,  Patriots  of  the, 41,  42 

Reed,  Dr.  Stephen 120,121,123 

Richards,  Wm.  C, 112 

Richmond, 108,  355 

Richmond  Boulder  trains,. 114 

Richmond  Lake,     109 

Roaring  Brook, 190 

Rock  Mountain, , 152 

Sacrifice  Rock,  The, 304 

Saddleback  Mountain, , 244 

Sand  Springs, 346 

Scatter  the  Jerms  of  the  Beautiful," .......   291 

Sedgwick,  Catherine  M. , 87, 88,  309,  361 


380  LNDBX. 

Sedgwick,  Charles, 360 

Sedgwick,  Tlieodore, 309 

Shaw,  Henry  and  Henry  S., , 177,  323 

Shaw,  Kev.  Samuel  Brenton, 178 

Shays  Rebels 154 

Sheffield 240 

She  would  be  a  gentleman's  wife, 93 

Shoon-Keek-Moon-keek, 67 

Smith,  Gideon, 203 

Soldiers,  honors  due  to, 39 

Soutl)  Mountain, 147,  353 

Spectre  Brook, 260 

Stockbridge,  293;  stormy  times    in,    299;  Indian    Mas- 
sacre,   301,  323,  349 

Stockbridge  Bowl, 316,  830 

Stories  of  the  Village  Green, 39 

Sumner,  Charles, 3^6 

Swiss  Lovers,  The, 222 

Symonds  Peak, 244 

Tales. 

Tales  of  a  tree, 12 

Isabel  Walton, 13 

Lucretia  W  illiams, 21 

Tales  of  the  Village  Green, 39 

Phantoms  of  Shoon-keek-Moon-keek, 67 

Atotarho's  Duff, 81 

She  would  be  a  gentleman's  wife, 93 

The  Wizard's  Glen, 131 

Undine's  Glen, 140 

White  Deer  of  Lake  Onota, 184 

The  Old  Worshipper, 172 

Tales  of  the  Tories, 202 

The  Swiss  Lovers, 223 

Wahconah 269 

.Ten  million  years  ago, ...   114 

Thoreau,  Henry,    248,  254 

'i'ilden,  Samuel  J., ...  .    86 


INDBX.  881 

Todd,  Rev.  Dr.  John, 53,  163 

Tom  Ball  (rountain), 357 

Tories' Glen 190,200 

Tories,  Handling  of,  2«  ;  Tales  of, 202 

Town,  College  and  Spa, 337 

Troy,   108,216 

Tucker,  Joseph, 363 

Tunnel  city.  Marvels  of, 156 

Tyler,  Rev.  Wellington  H., 287 

Undine's  Glen, 144 

Unkamet's  Path, 823 

Waliconah  Falls  and  a  tradition  aboat  them, 266 

Walker,  Judges  Wm.  and  Wm.  P., 363 

Ward,  Samuel  G., 366 

Washington  mountain, , 151 

Waterworks,  Pittsfield, 141, 151 

Wendell,  Col.  Jacob  and  Judge  Oliver, 192 

West  Stockbridge, 357 

White  Deer  of  Lake  Onota, 184 

Williams  College, 346,826,337,342 

Williams,  John  Chandler, 21,  89,  47,  b71 

Williams,  Col.  Israel, 22 

Williams,  Lucretia, ....     22 

Williamstown,  243,261,337 

Windsor, ; 266 

Wyomanock, 87 

Yocun'sSeat, 169,366,358 


MAPLEWOOD  INSTITUTE. 

One  of  tlie  most  widely  and  longest  known  features  of 
Pittsfield,  physically  and  socially,  lias  been  and  is,  its  scliool 
for  young  ladies.  Founded  in  1841,  it  soon  reached  a  national 
patronage  and  fame. 

Here  first,  liberal  provision  was  made  for  the  healthful  ex- 
ercise of  young  lady  pupils,  a  gymnasium  ninety  feet  by  fifty- 
five  being  established  in  the  spring  of  '51.  Dio  Lewis,  visiting 
it  about  a  dozen  years  ago,  declared  with  great  emphasis  that 
not  a  school  on  the  continent  was  doing  as  much  for  the 
physical  development  of  its  pupils. 

The  grounds  about  the  buildings,  always  of  rare  attractive- 
ness, are  now  more  beautiful  than  ever,  magnificent  elms  and 
maples  of  fifty  years'  growth,  and  fountains,  fiowers  and 
shrubbery  adding  every  year  to  its  beauty. 

As  regards  intellectual  training,  Maplewood  well  maintains 
its  position.  With  its  regular  collegiate  course,  of  four  years 
it  has  of  late  also  a  special  classical  and  mathematical  course 
for  those  desiring  to  be  fitted  to  enter  Smith  College,  or  any 
similar  institutions  and  also  a  music  course  with  diploma.  It 
also  gives  more  prominence  than  formerly  to  drawing,  sketch- 
ing from  nature,  and  studies  designed  to  fit  pupils  for  the 
practical  duties  of  life. 

Its  aim  is  to  make  a  thoroughly  home-like  place  for  a  limited 
number  of  students,  in  marked  contrast  with  those  institu- 
tions which  receive  and  educate  several  hundred,  all  mature 
enough  to  be  fully  able  to  take  care  of  themselves.  The 
principals  with  their  families  and  most  of  the  instructors 
reside  within  the  institution. 


THE  BERKSHIRE  ATHENiEUM. 

The  trustees  of  the  Berkshire  Athenaeum  were  incorporated 
in  1871  for  the  promotion  of  education,  culture  and  re- 
finement by  means  of  libraries,  reading-rooms,  cabinets, 
lectures,  etc.  Previously  established  libraries  and  cabinets 
were  combined  in  their  hands.  A  costly  and  capacious  build, 
ing  has  been  erected  on  Park  Square.  The  library  now 
numbers  about  eleven  thousand  valuable  books ;  and  there 
are  an  historical  museum  and  a  mineralogical  cabinet ;  each 
with  a  large  number  of  rare  and  interesting  specimens. 
Reading  rooms  for  reviews,  magazines  and  newspapers  have 
been  opened. 

All  departments  of  the  Athenaeum  are  open  daily,  and  the 
library  and  reading  rooms  every  evening ;  and  the  use  of  all 
is  entirely  free  to  the  public,  under  such  rules  only  as  are 
needful  for  the  protection  of  the  books  and  other  property. 

The  trustees  solicit  donations  of  contributions  to  the  library 
and  cabinets  ;  especially  of  books,-  manuscripts  and  other 
articles  illustrative  of  the  civil,  military,  or  natural  history  of 
the  county. 

The  edition  of  the  report  of  the  proceedings  at  the  dedica- 
tion of  thePittsfield  Soldiers'  Monument,  including  the  oration 
of  Hon.  George  William  Curtis,  has  been  presented  to  the 
Athenaeum,  and  copies  will  be  sent  post-paid,  to  any  ad- 
dress on  the  receipt  of  the  retail  price,  25cts.  The  report  is 
a  very  handsome  octavo  pamphlet  of  72  pages,  with  a  pho- 
tographic view  of  the  monument. 


THE  BERKSHIRE   LIFE   INSURANCE   COM- 
PANY, 

Incorporated  in  1851 — is  one  of  Berkshire  county's  solid 
institutions.  Its  directors  are  prominent  men,  in  the  county, 
of  various  callings.  It  does  not  emulate  the  large  city  com- 
panies in  the  extent  of  its  business,  but  it  is  none  the  less  sound 
on  that  account,  as  the  personal  supervision  of  its  officers  can 
be,  and  is,  given  to  all  its  business  operations.  Ex-Governor 
George  N.  Briggs  was  the  first  president  and  w^as  succeeded  by 
Thomas  F.  Plunkett,  who  had  a  wide  reputation  for  sound 
and  practical  business  sagacity,  and  the  conservative  princi- 
ples impressed  by  these  men  on  the  company  have  been 
followed  to  the  present  time. 

The  institution  is  one  that  should  find  especial  favor  with 
New  England  men  everywhere  ;  and  command  the  confidence 
of  Berkshire's  sons. 

It  has  agents  in  most  northern  states  ;  but  application  can 
be  made  to  the  company  direct,  at  its  home  office  in  Pittsfield, 
Mass. 

It  aims  to  give  to  each  policy  holder  a  fair  contract  and  to 
honestly  perform  its  part  of  it.  It  has  maintained  through 
a  commercial  depression,  unexamped  in  the  history  of  this 
country,  a  surplus  of  cash  assets  for  the  benefit  of  its  policy 
holders,  and  the  published  statements  of  the  company  honestly 
and  fairly  represent  its  financial  condition.  It  has  never  nn- 
dertaken  expensive  methods  for  obtaining  new  business  to  the 
detriment  of  present  members. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  PITTSFIELD 


From  1734  to  1876,  by  J.  E.  A.  Smith,  was  prepared  and 
published  at  the  expense  of  the  town,  whose  property  it  still 
is.  It  consists  of  two  handsomely  printed  volumes  with  an 
aggregate  of  1,243  octavo  pages,  illustrated  by  a  map,  35  wood 
cuts  and  sixteen  finely  executed-  steel  portraits.  The  work 
met  with  extraordinary  favor  from  the  press,  from  whose 
opinions  we  make  a  few  extracts. 

From  the  Boston  Congregationalist. 

It  is  seven  years  since  the  first  volume  of  this  work,  bring- 
ing the  history  of  the  town  to  thy  beginning  of  the  present 
century,  was  issued.  We  then  expressed  our  sense  of  its  great 
excellence  and  interest,  as  we  are  now  glad  to  do  of  its  con- 
tinuation, to  the  present  time.  These  two  volumes  furnish  a 
memorial,  for  which  any  town  might  be  grateful,  and  of  whose 
so  successful  preparation  any  author  might  be  proud.  *  *  * 
We  do  not  know  where  any  man  could  go  for  so  accurate  and 
graphic  a  minute  picture  of  the  best  New  England  life  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century  as  in  the  first  fifty  pages 
of  the  second  volume. 

From  Harpers  Monthly. 

The  admirable  history  of  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts,  by  Mr. 
J.  E.  A.  Smith,  one  of  the  most  elaborate,  thorough  and  accu- 
rate of  local  histories. 

From  the  Springfield  Republican. 

The  Benedict  Arnold  episodes  in  this  volume  (the  first)  are 
among  the  best  parts  of  it;  and  contain  much  that  will  be  new 
to  the  reader.  The  whole  book  when  completed  will  be  the 
pride  of  the  town,  and  of  great  service  to  all  students  of  Amer- 
ican liistory. 


The  work  can  be  had  of  the  subscriber,  agent  lor  the  town 
at  the  following  prices:  First  volume,  518  pages,  in  cloth, 
$2.40,  in  half  morocco,  $3.80  ;  or  it  will  be  sent  by  mail  in 
cloth  at  $2.60,  in  half  morocco,  $3.00;  Second  volume,  725 
pages,  in  cloth,  $2.80,  in  half  morocco,  $3.20;  or  it  will  be 
sent  by  mail  in  cloth  for  $3.10,  in  half  morocco  for  $3.50 :  The 
set  complete  in  cloth,  $4.00;  in  half  morocco,  $4.80,  by  mail 
cloth,  $4.50;  lialf  morocco,  $5.30. 

S.  E.  NiCHOT.s,  Bookseller,  Pittsfield, 


